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George MacDonald - Halloween
Work rating: Low

Sweep up the flure, Janet;
Put on anither peat.
It`s a lown and a starry nicht, Janet,
And nowther cauld nor weet.

It`s the nicht atween the Sancts and Souls
Whan the bodiless gang aboot;
And it`s open hoose we keep the nicht
For ony that may be oot.

Set the cheirs back to the wa`, Janet;
Mak ready for quaiet fowk.
Hae a`thing as clean as a windin-sheet:
They comena ilka ook.

There`s a spale upo` the flure, Janet,
And there`s a rowan-berry!
Sweep them intil the fire, Janet,
Or they`ll neither come nor tarry.

Syne set open the outer dure—
Wide open for wha kens wha?
As ye come ben to your bed, Janet,
Set baith dures to the wa`.

She set the cheirs back to the wa`,
But ane that was o` the birk;
She sweepit the flure, but left the spale—
A lang spale o` the aik.

The nicht was lown; the stars sae still
War glintin doon the sky;
The souls crap oot o` their mooly graves,
A` dank wi` lyin by.

They faund the dure wide to the wa`,
And the peats blawn rosy reid:
They war shuneless feet gaed in and oot,
Nor clampit as they gaed.

The mither she keekit but the hoose,
Saw what she ill could say;
Quakin she slidit doon by Janet,
And gaspin a whilie she lay.

There`s are o` them sittin afore the fire!
Ye wudna hearken to me!
Janet, ye left a cheir by the fire,
Whaur I tauld ye nae cheir suld be!

Janet she smilit in her minnie`s face:
She had brunt the roden reid,
But she left aneth the birken cheir
The spale frae a coffin-lid!

Saft she rase and gaed but the hoose,
And ilka dure did steik.
Three hours gaed by, and her minnie heard
Sound o` the deid nor quick.

Whan the gray cock crew, she heard on the flure
The fa` o` shuneless feet;
Whan the rud cock crew, she heard the dure,
And a sough o` win` and weet.

Whan the goud cock crew, Janet cam back;
Her face it was gray o` ble;
Wi` starin een, at her mither`s side
She lay doon like a bairn to dee.

Her white lips hadna a word to lat fa`
Mair nor the soulless deid;
Seven lang days and nights she lay,
And never a word she said.

Syne suddent, as oot o` a sleep, she brade,
Smilin richt winsumly;
And she spak, but her word it was far and strayit,
Like a whisper come ower the sea.

And never again did they hear her lauch,
Nor ever a tear doun ran;
But a smile aye flittit aboot her face
Like the mune on a water wan.

And ilka nicht atween Sancts and Souls
She laid the dures to the wa`,
Blew up the fire, and set the cheir,
And loot the spale doon fa`.

And at midnicht she gaed but the hoose
Aye steekin dure and dure.
Whan the goud cock crew, quaiet as a moose
She cam creepin ower the flure.

Mair wan grew her face, and her smile mair sweet
Quhill the seventh Halloweve:
Her mother she heard the shuneless feet,
Said—She`ll be ben belyve!

She camna ben. Her minnie rase—
For fear she `maist cudna stan;
She grippit the wa`, and but she gaed,
For the goud cock lang had crawn.

There sat Janet upo` the birk cheir,
White as the day did daw;
But her smile was a sunglint left on the sea
Whan the sun himsel is awa.
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