The last
fathom of the last time you will catch in your arms the
appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow.
fathom of the last time you will catch in your arms the
appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow.
Robert Burns - Poems and Songs
"
He wistl'd up Lord Lennox' March
To keep his courage cherry;
Altho' his hair began to arch,
He was sae fley'd an' eerie:
Till presently he hears a squeak,
An' then a grane an' gruntle;
He by his shouther gae a keek,
An' tumbled wi' a wintle
Out-owre that night.
He roar'd a horrid murder-shout,
In dreadfu' desperation!
An' young an' auld come rinnin out,
An' hear the sad narration:
He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw,
Or crouchie Merran Humphie--
Till stop! she trotted thro' them a';
And wha was it but grumphie
Asteer that night!
Meg fain wad to the barn gaen,
To winn three wechts o' naething;^12
But for to meet the deil her lane,
She pat but little faith in:
[Footnote 12: This charm must likewise be performed
unperceived and alone. You go to the barn, and open both
doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible; for there is
danger that the being about to appear may shut the doors,
and do you some mischief. Then take that instrument used in
winnowing the corn, which in our country dialect we call a
"wecht," and go through all the attitudes of letting down
corn against the wind. Repeat it three times, and the third
time an apparition will pass through the barn, in at the
windy door and out at the other, having both the figure in
question, and the appearance or retinue, marking the
employment or station in life. --R. B. ]
She gies the herd a pickle nits,
An' twa red cheekit apples,
To watch, while for the barn she sets,
In hopes to see Tam Kipples
That vera night.
She turns the key wi' cannie thraw,
An'owre the threshold ventures;
But first on Sawnie gies a ca',
Syne baudly in she enters:
A ratton rattl'd up the wa',
An' she cry'd Lord preserve her!
An' ran thro' midden-hole an' a',
An' pray'd wi' zeal and fervour,
Fu' fast that night.
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. It is repeated three times, and every time the
arrangement of the dishes is altered.
He wistl'd up Lord Lennox' March
To keep his courage cherry;
Altho' his hair began to arch,
He was sae fley'd an' eerie:
Till presently he hears a squeak,
An' then a grane an' gruntle;
He by his shouther gae a keek,
An' tumbled wi' a wintle
Out-owre that night.
He roar'd a horrid murder-shout,
In dreadfu' desperation!
An' young an' auld come rinnin out,
An' hear the sad narration:
He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw,
Or crouchie Merran Humphie--
Till stop! she trotted thro' them a';
And wha was it but grumphie
Asteer that night!
Meg fain wad to the barn gaen,
To winn three wechts o' naething;^12
But for to meet the deil her lane,
She pat but little faith in:
[Footnote 12: This charm must likewise be performed
unperceived and alone. You go to the barn, and open both
doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible; for there is
danger that the being about to appear may shut the doors,
and do you some mischief. Then take that instrument used in
winnowing the corn, which in our country dialect we call a
"wecht," and go through all the attitudes of letting down
corn against the wind. Repeat it three times, and the third
time an apparition will pass through the barn, in at the
windy door and out at the other, having both the figure in
question, and the appearance or retinue, marking the
employment or station in life. --R. B. ]
She gies the herd a pickle nits,
An' twa red cheekit apples,
To watch, while for the barn she sets,
In hopes to see Tam Kipples
That vera night.
She turns the key wi' cannie thraw,
An'owre the threshold ventures;
But first on Sawnie gies a ca',
Syne baudly in she enters:
A ratton rattl'd up the wa',
An' she cry'd Lord preserve her!
An' ran thro' midden-hole an' a',
An' pray'd wi' zeal and fervour,
Fu' fast that night.
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. It is repeated three times, and every time the
arrangement of the dishes is altered.
