"Of Brownyis and of Bogillis full is this Buke." GAWIN DOUGLAS.
When chapman billies' leave the street,
And drouthy2 neibors, neibors meet;
As market days are wearing late,
And folk begin to tak the gate,3
While we sit bousing at the nappy,*
An' getting fous and unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,"
The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,
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,
For honest men and bonie lasses).
O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise,
As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!
She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum;8
A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;"
That frae November till October,
Ae market-day thou wasna sober;
That ilka melder 10 wi' the Miller,
Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;
That ev'ry naig was ca'd11 a shoe on
The Smith and thee gat roarin fou on;
That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday,
Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean12 till Monday;
She prophesied that late or soon,
Thou wad be found deep drown'd in Doon, 30
Or catch'd wi' warlocksis i' the mirk,14
By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.
Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet, 15
To think how mony counsels sweet,
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, 18 bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; And at his elbow, Souter" Johnie, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony: Tam lo'ed him like a very brither; They had been fou for weeks thegither. 1 Pedlar fellows, pedlars.
3 Road. 4 Ale, especially strong ale. The Scotch mile was several hundred
than the English mile.
7 Gaps in a hedge or fence. Blatherskite, noisy talker.
2 Thirsty. 5 Full. yards longer
10 i. e.. Every time he took meal to be ground. Melder=
the amount of meal ground at one time. 11 i. e., every horse that was shod. ca a shoe to drive, or nail on, a shoe.
The wind blew as 't wad blawn its last;
The rattling showers rose on the blast;
The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd; 75
Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellow'd:
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,
Tam skelpit20 on thro' dub21 and mire,
Despising wind, and rain, and fire;
Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet,
Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet,
Whiles glow'rin round wi' prudent cares,
Lest bogles22 catch him unawares;
Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,
Where ghaists and houlets23 nightly cry.
By this time he was cross the ford,
Where in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;24 90
And past the birks 25 and meikle stane,
Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane;
And thro' the whins, 28 and by the cairn,27
Where hunters fand the murder'd bairn;
And near the thorn, aboon the well,
Where 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,
When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,
Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze,
Thro' ilka bore28 the beams were glancing,
And loud resounded mirth and dancing.
Her cutty sark,55 o' Paisley harn, 50 That while a lassie she had worn, In longitude tho' sorely scanty,
To note upon the haly table,
It was her best, and she was vauntie.57
Ah! little ken'd thy reverend grannie,
That sark she coft58 for her wee Nannie,
Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches),
Wad ever grac'd a dance o' witches!
But here my Muse her wing maun cour,
Sic flights are far beyond her power;
To sing how Nannie lap and flang,
(A souple jade she was and strang),
And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd,
And thought his very een enrich'd:
Even Satan glowr'd and fidg'd fu' fain,
And hotch'd59 and blew wi' might and main:
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 40 did gape;
Five tomahawks, wi' blude red-rusted;
Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted;
A garter which a babe had strangled:
A knife, a father's throat had mangled,
Whom his ain son of life bereft,
The gray-hairs yet stack to the heft;
Wi' mair of horrible and awfu',
Which even to name wad be unlawfu'.
As Tammie glowr'd amaz'd, and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious; The Piper loud and louder blew,
When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
The dancers quick and quicker flew;
Wi' mony an eldritch skreich65 and hollow. 200
Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin !66 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 o' the brig; There, at them thou thy tail may toss, A running stream they darena cross! But ere the key-stane she could make, The fient a tail68 she had to shake! For Nannie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
50 Perhaps wrinkled, withered. Staff, a witch's stick.
40 Mouth. 42 Cast off her old clothes. 45 Young girls. 47 i. e., fine linen, 49 Lasses.
41 Joined hands.
"Tripped.
67 i. e., the middle of the bridge. This was the point of safety, since the pursuing spirits could not pass beyond the middle of the running stream beneath.
68 i. e., "The devil a bit of a tail." (Fient=fiend, devil).
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;69
But little wist she Maggie's mettle!
Ae spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind her ain gray tail:
The carling claught70 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 inclin'd,
Or Cutty-sarks rin in your mind,
Think ye may buy the joys o'er dear;
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.
There Simmer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last Farewell
O' my sweet Highland Mary.
How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,2
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasp'd her to my bosom!
The golden Hours on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my Dearie;
For dear to me, as light and life,
Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;
But oh! fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my Flower sae early!
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay
That wraps my Highland Mary!
O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
And clos'd for aye, the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.
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