Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares, Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing; Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil! The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, Nae cotillion 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; Coffins stood round like open presses, A murderer's banes in gibbet airns; The gray hairs yet stack to the heft; Which ev'n 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; The dancers quick and quicker flew ; They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, 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 thae been queans, A' plump and strapping in their teens ; But wither'd beldams, auld and droll, But Tam kend what was what fu' brawlie, (Lang after kend on Carrick shore; It was her best, and she was vauntie. |