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THE

QUAKING ASH TREE.

SUPPOSED TO BE SUNG BY ONE WHOSE SWEETHEART

IS DEAD.

Flash flew the lightning amid silent darkness,

Loud roar'd the thunder straight over my head; Though far from my home on the hill I had wanderd, I saw na' nor kent na’ the gate as I gaed.

Between late and early,

My course led me fairly
Through the kirk-yard over graves heeped hi’;

There I saw my Nanie,

Right blithelike and bonny, And monie mae, dance roun' a Quaking Ash Tree.

Side were their kirtles, and white as the snaw is;

Bright were the tapers that blazed in a skull; Loud was the noise of the banes that they rattled, An' erie the sough of ilk echoing yell.

Quo' ane we will kill him,

Anither we'll broil him, But out cry'd my Nannie, “ Fye, let him a-be :">

Wi' that the shrill cock crew,

They vanish'd, gude kens how,
But I stood alane by the Quaking Ash Tree.

THE

WARLOCK LAIRD.

WRITTEN IN IMITATION OF AN OLD BALLAD.

As

Craigie's Knight went a hunting one day,

Along with the Laird of Fail, They came to a house, where the gudewife she

Was brewing the shearers ale.

Sir Thomas alighted at the door

Before the Laird of Fail, « And will ye gie me, gudewife,” quo' he,

A drink of your shearer's ale ?"

“ I will gie thee, Şir Thomas," quo? she,

“ A drink of my shearers ale ; But gude be hear, how. I sweat with fear,

At sight of the Laird of Fail!"

" What sees auld lucky the Laird about

That may not be seen on me?
His beard so long, so bushy and strong,

Sure need not affrighten thee?”_

Though all his face was cover'd with hair,

It never would daunton me;
But young and old have oft heard it told

That a warlock wight is he.

“ He caused the death of my braw milk cow,

And did not his blasting e'e Bewitch my bairn, cowp many a kirn,

And gaur my auld doggie die ?”_

Sir Thomas came out and told the Laird

The gudewife's tremour within ; “ Now Laird,” said he, “that sport we may see,

Come put in the merry pin.”

לל

“ If ye want sport, Sir Thomas," quo he,

“ I wyte ye's no want it long ; This crusty gudewife, upon my life,

Shall gie us a dance and song."

He put then a pin aboon the door,

And said some mysterious thing; Then instantly the old woman she

Began to dance and to sing :

“O good Sir Thomas of Craigie, tak?

The warlock Laird of Fail
Away from me, for he never shall prie

A drop of our shearers ale!"

The Laird he cried on the auld gudeman,

And sought a drink of his beer; “ Atweel,” quo' he, “kind Sir, you shall be.

Welcome to all that is here."

But just as he pass'd under the pin,

He roar'd out “ Warlock Fail, Away from me, for you never shall prie

A drop of our shearers ale!"

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