The storm without might rair and rustle, 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 of life victorious! But pleasures are like poppies spread, That flit ere you can point their place; Nae man can tether time or tide, The hour approaches, Tam maun ride; 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 wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; The rattling showers 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. Weel mounted on his grey mare, Meg, A better never lifted leg, Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire, Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles haulding fast his gude blue bonnet; By this time Tam was cross the ford, Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing; Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! Wi' Usqueba, we'll face the devil! The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, She ventur'd forward on the light, And, vow! Tam saw an unco sight! Nae light cotillion new frae France, There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; He screw'd the pipes, and gart them skirl, Coffins stood round like open presses, To note upon the haly table, A murderer's banes in gibbet-airns; Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns; The grey hairs yet stack to the heft; Which e'en 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 they been queans, A' plump and strapping in their teens ; For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies! But wither'd beldams, auld and droll, Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, Louping and flinging on a crummock, I wonder did na turn thy stomach. But Tam ken'd what was what fu' brawly, There was ae winsome wench and waly, That night enlisted in the core; (Lang after ken'd on Carrick shore; For mony a beast to dead she shot, And perish'd mony a bonnie boat, In longitude tho' sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vaunty. Ah! little ken'd thy reverend grannie, But here my Muse her wing maun cour; Tam tint his reason a' thegither, And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty Sark !" And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, As bees biz out wi' angry fyke, When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager rins the market-crowd, When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; So Maggie rins-the witches follow, Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin'! In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'! |