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Monk, Horner, Hippock Jingo Jingo, Appear in likeness of a priest, No like a deil in shape o’ beast, With gaping chasts to sleg us a': Walk forth, the door srands to the wa'.

Then frae the hole whar he was pent. The priest approach'd right weel content, With silent pace strade o’er the floor, Till he was drawing near the door, Then to escape the cudgel ran. But was not mist’d by the goodman, Wha lent him on the neck a lounder, That gart him o’er the threshold founder, Darkness soon hid him frae their fight, Ben flew the miller in a fright. I trow, quoth he, I laid well on, But waw he's like our ain Mess John!