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ePaper created 2014-04-08, 18:05:31 | version 1.29.01
61 Now Mary Butters lies in jail, For the base part she has acted. The tailor lost his son an’ wife, For Mary Butters did them smother But as he hates a single life, In four weeks time he got another; He is a cruse auld canty chiel,46 An’ cares nae what witches mutters He’ll never mair employ the deil, Nor his auld agent, Mary Butters; At day the tailor left his post, Though he had seen no apparition Nae wizard grim nae witch nor ghost, Though still he had a strong suspicion That some auld wizard wrinkled wife, Had cast her cantrips47 o’er poor brawny Cause she and he did live in strife, An’ whare’s the man can blame poor Sawney; Wae sucks for our young lasses now, For who can read their mystic matters Or tell if their sweet hearts be true, The folk a run to Mary Butters; To tell what thief a horse did steal, In this she was a mere pretender An’ has nae art to raise the deil Like that auld wife, the witch of Endor48 If Mary Butters be a witch, Why but the people all should know it, An’ if she can the muses touch I’m sure she’ll soon descry the poet, Her ain familiar49 aff she’ll sen’ 46 A man. 47 A magical spell. 48 In the bible, the Witch of Endor, on the orders of King Saul of Israel, summoned the spirit of the prophet Samuel.