They hoy’t out Will, wi’ sair advice;
     They hecht him some fine braw ane;
     It chanc’d the stack he faddom’t thrice^13
     Was timmer-propt for thrawin: 
     He taks a swirlie auld moss-oak
     For some black, grousome carlin;
     An’ loot a winze, an’ drew a stroke,
     Till skin in blypes cam haurlin
     Aff’s nieves that night.

[Footnote 13:  Take an opportunity of going unnoticed to a “bear-stack,” and fathom it three times round.  The last fathom of the last time you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow.—­R.B.]

     A wanton widow Leezie was,
     As cantie as a kittlen;
     But och! that night, amang the shaws,
     She gat a fearfu’ settlin! 
     She thro’ the whins, an’ by the cairn,
     An’ owre the hill gaed scrievin;
     Whare three lairds’ lan’s met at a burn,^14
     To dip her left sark-sleeve in,
     Was bent that night.

[Footnote 14:  You go out, one or more (for this is a social spell), to a south running spring, or rivulet, where “three lairds’ lands meet,” and dip your left shirt sleeve.  Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry.  Lie awake, and, some time near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it.—­R.B.]

     Whiles owre a linn the burnie plays,
     As thro’ the glen it wimpl’t;
     Whiles round a rocky scar it strays,
     Whiles in a wiel it dimpl’t;
     Whiles glitter’d to the nightly rays,
     Wi’ bickerin’, dancin’ dazzle;
     Whiles cookit undeneath the braes,
     Below the spreading hazel
     Unseen that night.

     Amang the brachens, on the brae,
     Between her an’ the moon,
     The deil, or else an outler quey,
     Gat up an’ ga’e a croon: 
     Poor Leezie’s heart maist lap the hool;
     Near lav’rock-height she jumpit,
     But mist a fit, an’ in the pool
     Out-owre the lugs she plumpit,
     Wi’ a plunge that night.

     In order, on the clean hearth-stane,
     The luggies^15 three are ranged;
     An’ ev’ry time great care is ta’en
     To see them duly changed: 
     Auld uncle John, wha wedlock’s joys
     Sin’ Mar’s-year did desire,
     Because he gat the toom dish thrice,
     He heav’d them on the fire
     In wrath that night.

[Footnote 15:  Take three dishes, put clean water in one, foul water in another, and leave the third empty; blindfold a person and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged; he (or she) dips the left hand; if by chance in the clean water, the future (husband or) wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no marriage at all.