A winnock bunker in the east,
There sat Auld Nick - in shape o' beast
A towzie tyke black, grim and large,
Tae gie them music was his charge
He screw'd his pipes and gart them skirl
Till roof and rafters a' did dirl -

Tam o' Shanter (January, 1791)

An' now, 'auld Cloots', I ken ye're thinkin'
A certain Bardie's rantin, drinkin'
Some luckless hour will send him linkin
To your black pit;
But, faith, he'll turn a corner, jinkin'
An cheat you yet!

Address to the De'il (Winter, 1784-5)