Robert Burns,
On The Late Captain Grose's Peregrinations Thro' Scotland
“ Wi' deils, they say, Lord save's! colleaguin At some black art. Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chaumer, Ye gipsy-gang that deal in glamour, And you, deep-read in hell's black grammar, Warlocks and witches, Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer, Ye midnight bitches. ”
