Some books are lies frae end to end, And some great lies were never penn'd: Ev'n ministers, they hae been kenn'd, [known] In holy rapture, A rousing whid at times to vend, [fib] And nail't wi' Scripture.
But this that I am gaun to tell, [going] Which lately on a night befell, Is just as true's the Deil's in hell Or Dublin city: That e'er he nearer comes oursel 'S a muckle pity. [great]
The clachan yill had made me canty, [village age, cheerful] I wasna fou, but just had plenty; [full] I stacher'd whyles, but yet took tent aye [staggered, heed] To free the ditches; [clear] An' hillocks, stanes, an' bushes kent aye Frae ghaists an' witches.
The rising moon began to glowre [stare] The distant Cumnock hills out-owre; [above] To count her horns, wi' a' my pow'r, I set mysel; But whether she had three or four I cou'd na tell.
I was come round about the hill, And todlin' down on Willie's mill, Setting my staff, wi' a' my skill, To keep me sicker; [secure] Tho' leeward whyles, against my will, I took a bicker. [run]
I there wi' _Something_ does forgather, [meet] That pat me in an eerie swither; [put, ghostly dread] An awfu' scythe, out-owre ae shouther, [across one shoulder] Gear-dangling, hang; [hung] A three-tae'd leister on the ither [-toed fish-spear] Lay large an' lang.
Its stature seem'd lang Scotch ells twa, The queerest shape that e'er I saw, For fient a wame it had ava: [devil a belly, at all] And then its shanks, They were as thin, as sharp an' sma' As cheeks o' branks. [sides of an ox's bridle]
'Guid-een,' quo' I; 'Friend! hae ye been mawin, [Good-evening, mowing] When ither folk are busy sawin?' [sowing] It seem'd to mak a kind o' stan', But naething spak; At length says I, 'Friend, wh'are ye gaun? [going] Will ye go back?'
It spak right howe: 'My name is Death, [hollow] But be na fley'd.'--Quoth I, 'Guid faith, [frightened] Ye're maybe come to stap my breath; But tent me, billie: [heed, fellow] I red ye weel, tak care o' skaith, [advise, harm] See, there's a gully!' [big knife]
'Gudeman,' quo' he, 'put up your whittle, [knife] I'm no design'd to try its mettle; But if I did--I wad be kittle [ticklish] To be mislear'd-- [if mischievous] I wad na mind it, no that spittle Out-owre my beard.' [Over]