The Bogie bides abune the brae
As queer as cannel-licht,
For in a dwaum, I spied him there,
Ae ghaistly, gurley nicht.

His heid is hapt wi’ stringly web
He hirples back an ben,
A muckle humfy-backit gleg
Deep, in a gorbelt den.

Ugsome, unsocht, he creeps aboot,
A touslie tinkie tyke,
He is the wailin i’ the win,
The fear ahint the dyke.

“Wheest, bairnies, wheesht,” I whisper,
As the lowe cracks i’ the lum,
“For gin yer coorse — ye niver ken —
The Bogie-man micht come.”