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Ane for ane may weel compare,But twa for ane is rather sair ;The play's nae equal, say I vow,Dear brother Thrummy, I'll help you.Then wi' his fit he kicked the ba',Gard it play stot against the wa';Quick then, as lightning fra the sy,The spectres with a horrid cry,A' vanished in a clap o' thun'er.While Thrummy at the same did won'er.The room wes quiet now aud dark,An' Thrummy striping in his sark;Glauming the gate back to bis bed,He thinks he hears a parson tread,An' ere he gat withont the door,The Ghaist again stood him before,And in his face did staring stand,wi' a big candle in its hand.Quoth Thrummy, Friend, I want to knowwhat brings you frae the shades below,I in goodness' name commandYou tell your story just aff hand ?Fat wad ye hae? --I'll do my bestto let you be at rest.Then says the Ghaist, 'Tis thirty yearSinse I've been doom'd to wander here ;In all that time there has been noneBehave'd sae bold as ye have done :Sae if you'll do a job for me,Disturbance mair I'll never gie.Sae on your tale, qnoth ThrummyTo do ye justice sure will try.Then mark me weel, the Ghaist repliedAnd ye shall soon be satisfied:
