The Hag is astride,

    This night for to ride;

The Devill and shee together:

    Through thick, and through thin,

    Now out, and then in,

Though ne'r so foule be the weather.

    A Thorn or a Burr

    She takes for a Spurre:

With a lash of a Bramble she rides now,

    Through Brakes and through Bryars,

    O're Ditches, and Mires,

She followes the Spirit that guides now.

    No Beast, for his food,

    Dares now range the wood;

But husht in his laire he lies lurking:

    While mischiefs, by these,

    On Land and on Seas,

At noone of Night are working,

    The storme will arise,

    And trouble the skies;

This night, and more for the wonder,

    The ghost from the Tomb

    Affrighted shall come,

Cal'd out by the clap of the Thunder.