This ae night

Sweet Suffolk Owl, so trimly dight
With feathers like a lady bright
Thou singst alone, sitting by night
Te whit! Te whoo!

Thy note that forth so freely rolls
With shrill command the mouse controls,
And sings a dirge for dying souls.
Te whit! Te whoo!

This ae night, this ae night,
Every night and all,
Fire and fleet and candle-light,
And Christ receive thy saule.

When thou from hence away art past...
To Whinney-muir thou com'st at last...

If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon...
Sit thee down and put them on...

If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane...
The whinnies shall prick thee to the bare bane...

From Whinney-muir when thou may'st pass...
to Brig o' Dread thou com'st at last...

From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass...
To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last...

If ever thou gavest meat or drink...
The fire shall never make thee shrink...

If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane...
the fire will burn thee to the bare bane...

This ae night, this ae night,
Every night and all,
Fire and fleet and candle-light,
And Christ receive thy saule.

words Anon. 17th century