She haurned it weel wi' ae blink o' the moon, She haurned it weel wi' ae blink o' the moon, An withre-shines thrice she whorled it roun', There's some sall skirl ere ye be done. Some lass maun gae wi' a kilted sark, Some priest maun preach in a thackless kirk, Thread maun be spun for a dead man's sark, A' maun be done e'er the sang o' the lark. Tell me what ye saw yestreen, Tell me what ye saw yestreen, There's yin may gaur thee sich an' green, For telling what ye saw yestreen." At such minor meetings also, effigies were moulded in clay of those who had offended, which pierced with pins conveyed serious bodily injuries and disorder in their victims corresponding to the pin punctures. Two of these carlines dispensing the "black art" in the respective parishes of Caerlaverock and Newabbey were in the habit of meeting with each other for such purpose, but the holy men of Sweetheart Abbey overcame their wicked designs by earnest prayers, so much so that their meetings on the solid earth were rendered futile, and thus thwarted, their intercourse had to take place on the water. Of this the following tale from "Cromek," as reputed to be told by an eye-witness, is descriptive:-- "I gaed out ae fine summer night to haud my halve at the Pow fit. It was twal' o'clock an' a' was lowne; the moon had just gotten up--ye mought a gathered preens. I heard something firsle like silk--I glowered roun' an' lake! what saw I but a bonnie boat, wi' a nob o' gowd, and sails like new-coined siller. It was only but a wee bittie frae me. I mought amaist touch't it. 'Gude speed ye gif ye gang for guid,' quoth I, 'for I dreed our auld carline was casting some o' her pranks.' Another cunning boat cam' off frae Caerla'rick to meet it. Thae twa bade a stricken hour thegither sidie for sidie. 'Haith,' quoth I, 'the deil's grit wi' some!' sae I crap down amang some lang cowes till Luckie cam' back. The boat played bowte again the bank, an out lowpes Kimmer, wi' a pyked naig's head i' her han'. 'Lord be about us!' quo' I, for she cam' straught for me. She howked up a green turf, covered her bane, an' gaed her wa's. When I thought her hame, up I got and pou'd up the bane and haed it. I was fleyed to gae back for twa or three nights, lest the deil's minnie should wyte me for her uncannie boat and lair me 'mang the sludge, or maybe do waur. I gaed back howsever, and on that night o' the moon wha comes to me but Kimmer. 'Rabbin,' quo' she, 'fand ye are auld bane amang the cowes?' ''Deed no, it may be gowd for me,' quo' I. 'Weel, weel,' quo' she, 'I'll byde and help ye hame wi' your fish.' God's be me help, nought grippit I but tades and paddocks! 'Satan, thy nieve's here,' quo' I. 'Ken ye' (quo' I) 'o' yon new cheese our wyfe took but frae the chessel yestreen? I'm gaun to send't t' ye i' the morning, ye're a gude neebor to me: an' hear'st thou me? There's a bit auld bane whomeled aneath thae cowes; I