Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right

How mony lengthen 'd', sage advices,
The husband frae the wife despises!

But to our tale:-Ae market night,
Tam had got planted unco right,
Fast by an ingle, bleezin finely,
Wi' reamin swats1 that drank divinely;
And at his elbow, Souter2 Johnie,
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony:
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither;
They had been fou for weeks thegither.
The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter;
And ay the ale was growing better:
The landlady and Tam grew gracious,
Wi' secret favours, sweet and precious:
The souter tauld his queerest stories;
The landlord's laugh was ready chorus;
The storm without might rair and rustle,
Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.

Care, mad to see a man sae happy,
E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy:
As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure,
The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure;
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious!

But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flow 'r, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white-then melts for ever;
Or like the borealis race,

That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow's lovely form
Evanishing amid the storm.-

Nae man can tether time or tide:
The hour approaches Tam maun ride;

35 | Lest bogles catch him unawares.
Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,
Where ghaists and houlets1 nightly cry.

By this time he was cross the ford,
Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;2
40 And past the birks3 and meiklet stane,
Whare drucken Charlie brak's neck-bane;
And thro' the whins,5 and by the cairn,6
Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn;
And near the thorn, aboon the well,
45 Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel.
Before him Doon pours all his floods;
The doubling storm roars thro' the woods,
The lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Near and more near the thunders roll;

50 When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,
Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze,7

Thro' ilka bores the beams were glancing,
And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane,
That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;
And sic a night he taks the road in,
As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.

The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle,
Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle,11
But Maggie stood, right sair astonish'd,
Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd,
She ventur'd forward on the light;
And, wow! Tam saw an unco12 sight!

110

115

70

The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;
The rattling show 'rs rose on the blast;
The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd;
Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellow'd:
That night, a child might understand,
The Deil had business on his hand.

75

Warlocks and witches in a dance;
65 Nae cotillon brent13 new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels14
Put life and mettle in their heels.
A winnock-bunker15 in the east,
There sat Auld Nick, in shape o' beast;
A towzie tyke,16 black, grim, and large,
To gie them music was his charge;
He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl,17
Till roof and rafters a' did dirl.18
Coffins stood round, like open presses,
That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses;
And by some devilish cantraip19 sleight
Each in its cauld hand held a light,

120

125

By which heroic Tam was able

A murderer's banes in gibbet-airns;

Twa span-lang, wee, unchristened bairns;
A thief, new-cutted frae the rape,20

1 owls

2 smothered

3 birches

+ great

5 furze

85

6 heap of stones

7 blaze

8 chink

9 two-penny ale

10 whiskey

11 a small coin

12 strange

13 bright (new)

14 All Scottish dances.

15 window-seat

16 shaggy cur

17 made them shriek

18 rattle

19 magic

20 rope

Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin!11
In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin!
160 In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin!

Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the key-stane of the brig;12
There, at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they dare na cross.
165 But ere the key-stane she could make,

The fient13 a tail she had to shake!
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;14

170 But little wist she Maggie's mettle-
Ae spring brought aff her master hale,
But left behind her ain grey tail:
The carlin claught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,
Ilk man, and mother's son, take heed:

18 that would wean (by Whene 'er to drink you are inclin 'd,
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,

25 short shirt, of Paisley 5 then

Very fine linen, woven in a reed of 1700 divi-A pound Scots is one sions, or 46 to the inch.