The Scotch Ghost.

'Twas New Year's Eve and Sandy's homeward way
Across the dark and lonely moorland lay,
Where once, as ancient Scotish legends tell,
All kinds of ghosts and goblins used to dwell.
Now Sandy was endowed, like all his race,
With full his share of ev'ry manly grace ;
But quenching thirst is human and, 'tis true
That Scots, in this respect, are human too.

"Hi ! Sandy, blitherin', ditherin' sinner, stay!
Wi' ye a solemn converse I maun hae."

A voice in weird, unearthly tones

Pronounced the word

That Sandy heard.

He stood dead-still,

And a sudden chill

Ran through the marrow of all his bones,

As he bethought him of the Judgment Day.