11
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 frae the sky,
The spectres with a horrid cry,
A’ vanished in a clap o’ thun’er.
While Thrummy at the same did won’er,
The room was quiet now and dark,
An’ Thrummy striping in his sark;
Glauming the gate hack to his bed,
He thinks he hears a parson tread,
An’ ere he gat without 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 know
What brings you frae the shades below,
I in my Maker s name command
You tell your story just aff hand?
Fat wad ye hae ?—I’ll do my best
For you, to let you be at rest.
Then says the Ghaist, ’ Tis thirty year,
Since I’ve been doom d to wander here;
In all that time there has been none
Behav’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, quoth Thrummy, I
To do you justice sure will try.
Then mark me weel, the Ghaist replied,
And ye shall soon be satisfied:
