WHEN chapman billies leave the street, | |
| And drouthy neebors neebors meet, | |
| As market-days are wearing late, | |
| An’ folk begin to tak the gate; | |
| While we sit bousing at the nappy, | 5 |
| An’ getting fou and unco happy, | |
| We think na on the lang Scots miles, | |
| The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles, | |
| That lie between us and our hame, | |
| Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame, | 10 |
| Gathering her brows like gathering storm, | |
| Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. | |
| This truth fand honest Tam O’ Shanter, | |
| As he frae Ayr ae night did canter | |
| (Auld Ayr, wham ne’er a town surpasses, | 15 |
| For honest men and bonnie lasses). | |
| O Tam! hadst thou been but sae wise | |
| As taen thy ain wife Kate’s advice! | |
| She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum, | |
| A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum: | 20 |
| That frae November till October, | |
| Ae market-day thou was na sober; | |
| That ilka melder, wi’ the miller, | |
| Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; | |
| That every naig was ca’d a shoe on, | 25 |
| The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; | |
| That at the L—d’s house, ev’n on Sunday, | |
| Thou drank wi’ Kirton Jean till Monday. | |
| She prophesied that, late or soon, | |
| Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon; | 30 |
| Or catched wi’ warlocks in the mirk, | |
| By Alloway’s auld haunted kirk. | |
| Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet | |
| To think how monie counsels sweet, | |
| How monie lengthened sage advices, | 35 |
| The husband frae the wife despises! | |
| But to our tale: Ae market night | |
| Tam had got planted unco right, | |
| Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, | |
| Wi’ reaming swats, that drank divinely; | 40 |
| And at his elbow souter Johnny, | |
| 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, | 45 |
| And aye the ale was growing better; | |
| The landlady and Tam grew gracious, | |
| Wi’ favors secret, sweet, and precious; | |
| The souter tauld his queerest stories; | |
| The landlord’s laugh was ready chorus; | 50 |
| 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 drowned himself amang the nappy; | |
| As bees flee hame wi’ lades o’ treasure, | 55 |
| The minutes winged 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 flower, its bloom is shed; | 60 |
| Or like the snow-fall in the river, | |
| A moment white,—then melts forever; | |
| Or like the borealis race, | |
| That flit ere you can point their place; | |
| Or like the rainbow’s lovely form | 65 |
| Evanishing amid the storm. | |
| Nae man can tether time or tide; | |
| The hour approaches Tam maun ride; | |
| That hour o’ night’s black arch the keystane, | |
| That dreary hour he mounts his beast in; | 70 |
| And sic a night he takes the road in | |
| As ne’er poor sinner was abroad in. | |
| The wind blew as ’t wad blawn its last; | |
| The rattling showers rose on the blast; | |
| The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed; | 75 |
| Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed; | |
| That night a child might understand | |
| The Deil had business on his hand. | |
| Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg, | |
| (A better never lifted leg,) | 80 |
| Tam skelpit on thro’ dub and mire, | |
| Despising wind and rain and fire,— | |
| Whyles holding fast his guid blue bonnet, | |
| Whyles crooning o’er some auld Scots sonnet, | |
| Whyles glowering round wi’ prudent cares, | 85 |
| Lest bogles catch him unawares; | |
| Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, | |
| Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. | |
| By this time he was cross the ford, | |
| Whare in the snaw the chapman smoored; | 90 |
| And past the birks and meikle stane, | |
| Whare drunken Charlie brak ’s neck-bane; | |
| And through the whins, and by the cairn, | |
| Whare hunters fand the murdered bairn; | |
| And near the thorn, aboon the well, | 95 |
| Whare Mungo’s mither hanged hersel’. | |
| Before him Doon pours all his floods; | |
| The doubling storm roars through the woods; | |
| The lightnings flash from pole to pole; | |
| Near and more near the thunders roll; | 100 |
| When, glimmering through the groaning trees, | |
| Kirk-Alloway seemed in a bleeze! | |
| Through ilka bore the beams were glancing, | |
| And loud resounded mirth and dancing. | |
| Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! | 105 |
| What dangers thou canst make us scorn! | |
| Wi’ tippenny we fear nae evil; | |
| Wi’ usquebae we ’ll face the Devil!— | |
| The swats sae reamed in Tammie’s noddle, | |
| Fair play, he cared na Deils a bodle. | 110 |
| But Maggie stood right sair astonished, | |
| Till, by the heel and hand admonished, | |
| She ventured forward on the light; | |
| And, wow! Tam saw an unco sight! | |
| Warlocks and witches in a dance: | 115 |
| Nae cotillon brent new frae France, | |
| But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels | |
| Put life and mettle in their heels. | |
| A winnock-bunker in the east, | |
| There sat auld Nick, in shape o’ beast,— | 120 |
| A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,— | |
| To gie them music was his charge; | |
| He screwed the pipes and gart them skirl | |
| Till roof an’ rafters a’ did dirl. | |
| Coffins stood round like open presses, | 125 |
| That shawed the dead in their last dresses; | |
| And by some devilish cantrip sleight, | |
| Each in its cauld hand held a light, | |
| By which heroic Tam was able | |
| To note, upon the haly table, | 130 |
| A murderer’s banes, in gibbet airns; | |
| Twa span-lang, wee, unchristened bairns; | |
| A thief, new cutted frae a rape, | |
| Wi’ his last gasp his gab did gape; | |
| Five tomahawks, wi’ bluid red rusted; | 135 |
| Five scymitars, wi’ murder crusted; | |
| A garter, which a babe had strangled; | |
| A knife, a father’s throat had mangled, | |
| Whom his ain son o’ life bereft,— | |
| The gray hairs yet stack to the heft; | 140 |
| Three lawyers’ tongues turned inside out, | |
| Wi’ lies seamed like a beggar’s clout; | |
| And priests’ hearts, rotten, black as muck, | |
| Lay stinking, vile, in every neuk: | |
| Wi’ mair o’ horrible and awfu’ | 145 |
| Which even to name wad be unlawfu’. | |
| As Tammie glowered, amazed and curious, | |
| The mirth and fun grew fast and furious; | |
| The piper loud and louder blew; | |
| The dancers quick and quicker flew; | 150 |
| They reeled, they set, they crossed, they cleekit, | |
| Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, | |
| And coost her duddies to the wark, | |
| And linket at it in her sark! | |
| Now Tam, O Tam! had they been queans, | 155 |
| A’ plump and strapping in their teens: | |
| Their sarks, instead of creeshie flannen, | |
| Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linen; | |
| Thir breeks o’ mine, my only pair, | |
| That ance were plush, o’ guid blue hair, | 160 |
| I wad hae gi’en them off my hurdies | |
| For ae blink o’ the bonnie burdies! | |
| But withered beldams, auld and droll, | |
| Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, | |
| Lowping an’ flinging on a crummock,— | 165 |
| I wonder didna turn thy stomach. | |
| But Tam kenn’d what was what fu’ brawlie. | |
| There was ae winsome wench and walie, | |
| That night inlisted in the core | |
| (Lang after kenned on Carrick shore; | 170 |
| For monie a beast to dead she shot, | |
| And perished monie a bonnie boat, | |
| And shook baith meikle corn and bear, | |
| And kept the country-side in fear). | |
| Her cutty-sark o’ Paisley harn, | 175 |
| That while a lassie she had worn, | |
| In longitude though sorely scanty, | |
| It was her best, and she was vaunty.— | |
| Ah! little kenned thy reverend grannie | |
| That sark she coft for her wee Nannie | 180 |
| Wi’ twa pund Scots (’t was a’ her riches) | |
| Wad ever graced a dance o’ witches! | |
| But here my Muse her wing maun cower, | |
| Sic flights are far beyond her power; | |
| To sing how Nannie lap and flang | 185 |
| (A souple jade she was and strang), | |
| And how Tam stood like ane bewitched, | |
| And thought his very een enriched. | |
| Ev’n Satan glowered, and fidged fu’ fain, | |
| And hotched and blew wi’ might and main; | 190 |
| Till first ae caper, syne anither,— | |
| Tam tint his reason a’ thegither, | |
| And roars out, “Weel done, Cutty-sark!” | |
| And in an instant a’ was dark; | |
| And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, | 195 |
| When out the hellish legion sallied. | |
| As bees bizz out wi’ angry fyke, | |
| When plundering herds assail their byke; | |
| As open pussie’s mortal foes, | |
| When, pop! she starts before their nose; | 200 |
| As eager runs the market-crowd, | |
| When Catch the thief! resounds aloud; | |
| So Maggie runs,—the witches follow, | |
| Wi’ monie an eldritch skreech and hollow. | |
| Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou ’ll get thy fairin’! | 205 |
| In hell they ’ll roast thee like a herrin! | |
| 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; | 210 |
| There at them thou thy tail may toss,— | |
| A running stream they dare na cross. | |
| But ere the key-stane she could make, | |
| The flent a tail she had to shake; | |
| For Nannie, far before the rest, | 215 |
| Hard upon noble Maggie prest, | |
| And flew at Tam wi’ furious ettle: | |
| But little wist she Maggie’s mettle,— | |
| Ae spring brought aff her master hale, | |
| But left behind her ain gray tail: | 220 |
| 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; | |
| Whene’er to drink you are inclined, | 225 |
| Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, | |
| Think, ye may buy the joys o’er dear, | |
| Remember Tam O’ Shanter’s mare. | |
| |
