Page:Prophecies of Thomas the Rhymer, the ancient Scotch prophet (1).pdf/32

 But de'il a word as yet spoke he; The spirits seemed to kick a ba', The Ghaist against the ither twa: While close they drave baith back and fore. Atween the chimla and the door. He stops a while and sees the play, Syne rinning up he thus did say: Ane for ane may well compare. But twa for one is rather sair: The play's nae equal, sae I vow. Dear brother Thrummy, I'll help you. Then wi' his feet 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 of thun'er, While Thrummy at the same did won'er. The room was quiet now and dark, And Thrummy stripping in his sark: Glauming the gate back to his bed, Ae thinks he hears a person 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 his hand, Quoth Thrummy, Friend I want to know, What brings you from the shades below? I, in my maker's name, command, You tell your story just aff hand? Fat wad you hae? —— I'll do my best, For you, to let you be at rest, Then says the Ghaist, 'tis thirty years, Since I've been doom'd to wander here; In all that time there has been none, Behav'd so bold as you have done; Say, if you'll do a job for me, Disturbance mair I'll never gie; Say on your tale, quoth Thrummy, I,