The moon still shed its blessed light And calm and lovely was the night. Oh, Daavid! had you but been there, Wi' your leemonade and your ginger-beer, You might have saved me from despair, And a' the horrors that befell me, Which, Jockie, I am now to tell ye. My game, I told you had been good, Nine holes to play, eight up I stood. Sick o' the game, and sicker far o' Clootie, I'd ceased to care about the booty. I thocht I'd bounce him wi' my swagger, And get the better o' the beggar. 'Doctor,' says I, 'I've licked you into fits, Throw up the sponge, play double or quits!' 'What!' shouted he, 'such cheek, you sot, Dost think me daft, you silly Scot? That wise old saw hast thou forgot, "That he who suppers wi' the Deil, Lang spoon maun hae to sup his kail!"' Here, Jockie, I my temper lost, I'd hae my say whate'er the cost. 'D--n you,' says I, 'you ca' yoursel' the Deil, You are na blate my bonnie chiel. The Deil's a saunt compared wi' you, You yelley-livered, bandy-legged Jew; Quack doctor, purse-proud swaggerin' Jack, I'faith I'll lay you on your back.' He listened, looked, and gravely smiled To hear his Majesty reviled By simple clay so easily beguiled. Thoughtful he stood, and stroked his beard, Then, Presto, vanished--disappeared! Gone like a flash, I looked and wondered, And as I gaped and gazed and pondered, Beneath my feet the ground began to tremble, With earthquake shock to rock and rumble; And o'er the scene thick darkness crept, Deep gloom prevailed, the soft wind slept, Then lightning flared with vivid sheen, Blinding and dazzling my bewildered een! And thunder bellowed forth with awful roar, Echoing from shore to sea, from sea to shore. From Lucklaw to Drumcarrow, from Drumcarrow to Kinkell, Roaring and rattling with resounding swell, Peal followed peal, and flash on flash, Hissing and rumbling with terrific crash; The wind subdued burst forth anew, And howling, whistling, wilder blew; Deep groans and wailing filled the air, Of souls in anguish and despair! Loud shouts of 'fore,' and clash of cleeks, And demon golfers' yells and shrieks, Commingling with the mournful wail Of sea-birds swept before the gale! [Illustration]