3
'T was an auid biggin', that in per'lous times
(Whan fouk rampag'd, an' fought for ilka thing,)
Had been set there to keep aff sudden skaith;
An' in fierce bruliments, wi' weirlike wights,
Hlad stoutly stood—but now 'twas tumblin' down,
O'ercome by Time, fell lown! that a' o'crcomes.—
The moon just glimmerin' thro' a parted cloud,
Shaw'd Gibby what o' the auld wa's remain'd,
And whare the creeping woodbine spread its leaves,
Light shaking wi' ilk blast of winds that blew.
—Blythe, blythe was Gibby, (Bawty too was blythe,)
He chappit at the dore, an' gif he cou'd,
He wad hae whistled too:—but wi' the cauld
Sae davert he, he cou'd na crook his mou'.
The landlord cam'—"Wha's there?"
—"A frien' (quo' Gibby)
"Wha's wantin' lodgin', an' haf dead wi' cauld."
—"Waes me, man! for ye are come o'er late,
"For ilka place I hae's already fu',
"But ae big room—'Deed frien', I necdnae lie t'ye—
"An' that has lang been haunted by a logle,
"That mony a ane has fley'd—I winna bid ye,
"But gif ye like, I'se gi'e a rousing ingle,
"An' mak' ye welcum to't.”
Gibby was cauld but when the ghaist was nam'
The sweat brake on him, an' he shook wi' fear.
"Wow Bawty!"—Then he leuk'd without the dore
Loud blew the storm—but then the ghaist-again
The blast fierce blatterin' rattled in his lugs,
His heart play'd dunt wi' monny a dowie thought,—
Hi fidg't—he look bumbaz't—he sain't himsel'
