"Sauf us!" quoth Jock, "d'ye see sic een;" Cries Kate, "There's a hole where a nose should hae been; And the mouth's like a gash which a horn had ri'en; Wow! keep's frae Aiken-drum!" The black dog, growling, cowered his tail, The lassie swarfed, loot fa' the pail, Rob's lingle brack as he men't the flail, At the sight o' Aiken-drum. His matted head on his breast did rest, A lang blue beard wan'ered down like a vest; But the glare o' his e'e nae Bard hath exprest, Nor the skimes o' Aiken-drum. Roun' his hairy form there was naething seen But a philibeg o' the rashes green, And his knotted knees played ay knoit between; What a sight was Aiken-drum! On his wauchie arms three claws did meet, As they trailed on the grun' by his taeless feet; E'en the auld guidman himsel' did sweat, To look at Aiken-drum. But he drew a score, himsel' did sain, The auld wife tried, but her tongue was gane; While the young ane closer clasped her wean, And turned frae Aiken-drum. But the canny auld wife cam' till her breath, And she deemed the Bible might ward aff scaith, Be it benshee, bogle, ghaist, or wraith-- But it fear'dna Aiken-drum. "His presence protect us!" quoth the auld guidman; "What wad ye, whare won ye--by sea or by lan'? I conjure ye speak--by the Beuk in my haun!" What a grane gae Aiken-drum. "I lived in a lan' whar we saw nae sky, I dwalt in a spot whare a burn rins na by; But I'se dwall now wi' you, if ye like to try-- Hae ye wark for Aiken-drum? "I'll shiel' a' your sheep i' the mornin' sune, I'll berry your crap by the light o' the moon, And baa the bairns wi' an unken'd tune, If ye'll keep puir Aiken-drum. "I'll loup the linn when ye canna wade, I'll kirn the kirn, and I'll turn the bread; And the wildest fillie that ever ran rede I'se tame't," quoth Aiken-drum! "To wear the tod frae the flock on the fell-- To gather the dew frae the heather-bell-- And to look at my face in your clear crystal well, Might gie pleasure to Aiken-drum. "I'se seek nae guids, gear, bond, nor mark; I use nae beddin', shoon, nor sark; But a cogfu' o' brose 'tween the light and dark, Is the wage o' Aiken-drum." Quoth the wylie auld wife, "The thing speaks weel; Our workers are scant--we hae routh o' meal; Gif he'll do as he says--be he man, be he de'il, Wow! we'll try this Aiken-drum." But the wenches skirled "He's no' be here! His eldritch look gars us swarf wi' fear, And the fient a ane will the house come near, If they think but o' Aiken-drum. "For a foul and a stalwart ghaist is he, Despair sits brooding aboon his e'e bree, And unchancie to light o' a maiden's e'e, Is the grim glower o' Aiken-drum."