The Trogger

As I cam' down by Annan side,Intending for the Border,Amang the Scroggie banks and braes,Wha met I but a trogger.He laid me down upon my back,I thought he was but jokin',Till he was in me to the hilts,the deevil tak' sic troggin!

What could I say, what could I do,bann'd and sair misca'd him,But whiltie-whaltie gaed his a—eThe mair that I forbade him;He stell'd his foot against a stane,And doubl'd ilka stroke in,Till I gaed daft amang his hands,O the deevil tak' sic troggin!

Then up we raise, and took the road,And in by Ecclefechan,Where the brandy-stoup we gart it clink,And the strang-beer ream the quech in.Bedown the bents o' Bonshaw braes,We took the partin' yokin';But I've clawed a sairy c—t sin' syne,O the deevil tak' sic troggin!