A crochety farmer came riding by,
All, all alone.
He cursed him low and he cursed him high,
All, all alone.
The Spunky he up and led him astray,
The pony were floundered until it were day,
All, all alone.

There came an old Granny - she see the small ghost,
All, all alone.
"Yew poor liddle soul all a-cold, all a-lost,
All, all alone.
I've give 'ee criss-cross to save 'ee hide,
Be off to the church and make merry inside. "
All, all alone.

The Spunky he laughed, "Here, I'll galley no more! "
All, all alone.
And off he did wiver and in at the door,
All, all alone.
The souls they did sing for to end his pain,
There's no little Spunky a-down the lane,
All, all alone.

Traditional Scottish