5
That mony a ane has fley'd———I winna bid ye,
But gif ye like, I'se gi'e ye a rousing ingle,
And mak' ye welcume to't."
Gibby was cauld-but when the ghaist was nam'd
The sweat brake on him, and he shook wi'fear.
"Wow Bawty!"———Then he leuk'd without the
door———
Loud blew the storm———but then the ghaist———again.
The blast fierce blatterin rattled in his lugs,
His heart play'd dunt wi' mony a dowie thought,
He fidg'd-he look bumbaz'd-he said t'himsel',
Crap a thegither-started like ane craz'd;
———"I lo'e nae bogle; but that awfu' night!
Alack-a-day!———deed I maun tak ye'r offer,
Tho'I am unco frey'd—but wha can help?
Gif I gang-on, that night wad be my dead;
And come the ghaist, I shall be dead wi' fear!
Yet I ne'er harm'd it, what need it fash me?
Maybe it winna!"———Now kind Hope cam' in,
And a gude drink drave aff ilk dreary thought.
Whan the lang drawlin, gaunt, and drowsy e'e,
Shaw't bed-time came, he was led up the stair,
(Whare ne'er a fit for many a day had gane,)
And thro' an entry lang and ruinous,
Whare at the auld fail'd windows tħe cauld blast
Garr'd Gibby shiver as he gade alang,
The door worm-eaten, crackit on its bands,
And in he steppit, erie, loukin' round,
To ilka place he thought might haud a ghaist,
