Fin dweeble dwines the day awa,
The meen's a yalla, rikkin ring,
Steerin the cauldron o' the gloam,
The howlet's horror, on the wing.

Sherp-clookit futteret leaves the dyke,
The bat's sma screich's a widow's wail,
The snocherin brock pads ben the path,
An slivvery slips the snail.

The murderin tod stravaigs the ditch,
Twa sprigs o madness are its een,
A soople, sleekit, stalkin wraith,
The Daith amangst the breem.

Nicht lays her clammy haun ower aa,
The fears, that wi' the daylicht hide,
Creep frae the hidey-holes o' dark,
Crawl frae the mind, an wanner wide.

A craven moosie, coorin doon,
I've chittered on the ferny floor,
Nae kennin fit may staun ahin,
Fit lies in wait afore.