6
Aneath, and yont his bed, and up the lum,
But naething could he see, ware than himsel',
A clear peat ingle bleez'd on the hearthstane,
'Fore 'gainst whilk Bawty crap, wagging his tail,
Turned him about, and laid-him crus’ly down,
Thinkin' of neither bogles nor the storm.
"Gilbert, gude night———soun' sleep, and a blyth
mornin',
Quo' the gudeman-and partin' steek'd the door
Gibby said naething, but look'd wondrous dowf,
Fast as he could howsoever into bed,
He gat amang the claise, out o'er the lugs,
An' sain'd himsel' and swat wi' perfect fright,
Hard luck, alack! that the poor simple lad,
Wha ne'er was harsh to neither man-n or beast,
And wadna hurt the very de'il himsel',
Wi' guests should be distvrbed. ———
{{em))The auld door
Risp'd on its rusty bands. Poor Gibby glowr'(illegible text)
Bawty set up a lang and scarsome howl,
An' cour'd aneath the bed; when strange to tell
The fire flaughts glanc'd sae clear aronnd (illegible text)
room,
Ye might ha'e gather'd drins, the thunner rain
An' wi' an elritch skirl, a fell like sight,
Wi' blude a' barken'd, ghosty, staulk'd alang,
Steer'd up the ingle, ga’e a lang how grave;
An' shook its bloody pow, and thrice it pass'd,
Wi' slaw and heavy step, by Gibby's bed,
