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109

THE SPIRIT OF TINTOC;

A BALLAD.

WITH NOTES.

Take any shape but that------
Shakespear.

115

The Piper pech'd and the Piper blew,
And chirted out another spring,
And syne he sang as he gat fou,
(O weel auld Robin Scot could sing!)
Of bloody raids, and border wights,
When the clouds were dark or the moon was clear,
Who troop'd about, in winter nights,
To gather nolt and soudron geer.
Of knights and ladies fair he sang,
All underneath the greenwode tree;
Of Dick o' the Kow, and Johnie Armstrang,
And many an outlaw bold sang he.
116

Of Tamlane and of Fairyland,
Of Kelpy, Shellycoat, and a';
Of witches, and a fearsome band,
That dalesmen never heard or saw.
The gudeman glowr'd, and the gudewife gap'd,
Forgot poor Flecky in the byre;
Ilk peat she thought was fairy-shap'd,
And look'd for Brownie near the fire.
Johnie Bell was the gudeman's name,
The wife's I wot was Kate M'Crae;
He was a taylor, to his shame,
A tippling taylor, neighbours say.
But though a taylor, troth the chiel
Was bold, and did not lack a soul;
He lik'd the Piper's crack fou weel,
And weel to share a cogue or bowl.
The Piper took a fearfu' waught;
For Robin had an awesome drouth;
The gudewife sigh'd, but the Piper laugh'd,
When Johnie cried, “It's done in sooth!
117

“The graybeard's toom, I maun hae drink,
I've no a plack to buy a drap;
My heart is up, and away I'll link,
There's drink for nought on Tintoc tap.
“Frae Robin's sangs I ken fou weel,
That fairies keep the liquor there;
But be it fairy, witch, or de'il,
I'll find the Cap, and tak my share.”
He has put his blue bonnet on his head,
And in his hand his rowntree staff;
Greening for drink, with a heart without dread,
Away for Tintoc the taylor is aff.
He hadna gane a lang Scotch mile,
A lang Scotch mile but only twa,
When he thought that he spied the black de'il on a coile;
It was na the de'il, but it was—a craw.
Of lang Scotch miles he had na gane,
Of lang Scotch miles but only three,
When crossing the burn, he miss'd the stane,
The stepping stane, and in gaed he.
118

“I hae ye fast, and I'll ha'd ye fast,
Come Johnie Bell to my crystal bower;
The night is come and the day is past,
And Johnie Bell is in my power.”—
O Johnie roar'd most manfully,
When Brownie whistled at his ear,
“Cry, Cockatrice and Gallowlee
Thrice—and the de'il ye need na fear.”—
He mutter'd thrice the magic spell,
Thrice Cockatrice and Gallowlee,
When Kelpy shriek'd—“O, Johnie Bell,
My charm is broken—you are free.”—
On he hurried, and on he hied,
For the sake o' the Cap, and to get his fill,
Till he came at last to brown Tintoc side,
And turn'd him to the haunted hill.
Up he clamber'd, and up he clamb,
And he's coost his coat o' the hoddin gray,
And he's seen a ewe, wi' a coal-black lamb,
Bickering cross the heathery brae.
He's ta'en his spleuchan frae his breeks
For a quid o' the right Virginia;
119

And wi' his sleeve he's dried his cheeks,
For a hetter man ye never saw.
And when to the misty tap he's come,
The cloud took a grisly spectre's form;
The taylor stood bombazed and dumb,
While thus it spoke like a thunderstorm:
“Queen of the Spirits of fire, Johnie,
I force them forth with potent blaze;
Curb your wild desire, Johnie;
Stilla, I am, so go your ways.”—
“I fear ye not,” bold Johnie cried,
“That for you, witch, and your advice,
I matter you not nor your spirits beside—
Ken ye, Gallowlee and Cockatrice?”—
“When the fatal sister spins, Johnie,
I steal the life-lint frae her tap.” —
“Tell the priest your sins, cronie,
Right or wrong, I'll hae the Cap.”—
“When the sister lifts the sheers, Johnie,
I close them fast to clip the thread.”—
120

“Confess, when the fryar spiers, cronie,
Gie me the Cap, and never heed.”—
She has stamped on the grassless yeard,
A fire and cauldron quick arose;
The taylor rubb'd his head and beard,
And lick'd his lips, and cock'd his nose.
The fire low'd, and the cauldron hiss'd,
And the hell-steam rose baith red and blue,
When the guardian spirit of the Kist
Swell'd to the wond'ring taylor's view.
His hair was red, and his cheek-bones high,
And he look'd like a new-caught Highlandman;
His eyes in their sockets seem'd to fry;
He smelt like a peat-reek warming pan.
Before him lay a skull in scorn,
A living skull, though the sense was out—
121

With a spoon o' the de'ils auld cast-off horn,
He stirr'd and stirr'd the brain about.
The lid o' the Kist wi' a clap flew up,
And fou to the brim out flew the Cap;
The thirsty taylor, at ae sup,
Drank it a', baith dreg and drap.
The Kist, and Cap, and cantrip spell,
Wi' whizzing birr, in flinders flew,
But what became o' Johnie Bell,
Gude kens!—I ken nae mair than you!
 

Flecky, the name given a mottled cow.

Wooden dish.

A deep draught.

Rowntree staff. It is a popular superstition, that the Rowntree, or Mountain-ash, acts as a charm against witchcraft.

Coile is a hay-cock.

Hoddin Gray, a coarse gray woollen cloth, almost forgot, or unknown amongst the refined Scots of this century.

Spleuchan, a pouch made of seal-skin to hold tobacco.

Queen of the Spirits, &c. The allusion here seems to be to the presiding power of the Still.

The Tap is that part of a wheel which holds the flax for spinning.

Yeard, the earth.

The Kist has already been made mention of in the old rhymes on Tintoc.

His hair was red, &c. This guardian Spirit of the Kist appears to be allegorical of Fairntosh, a name for the true strong unadulterated Highland Whisky.

From this we learn a very curious fact, viz., that the Prince of Darkness sheds his horns; and moreover, that from the economy of the lower regions, these horns are not shed in vain, but are still the instruments of evil to man.—Horn-spoons are still common in Scotland.

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