That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday, Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon, Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet, To think how mony counsels sweet, How mony lengthened, sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises ! But to our tale. Ae market night Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drowned himsel' amang the nappy; As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, 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 swallowed; Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed. That night, a child might understand, The De'il had business on his hand. Weel mounted on his gray mare Meg A better never lifted leg Tam skelpit on through dub and mire, Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet, By this time he was 'cross the foord, Whare in the snaw the chapman smoored; 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 murder'd bairn; And near the thorn, aboon the well, 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; 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! Wi' usquabae, we'll face the Devil! The swats sae reamed in Tammie's noddle, Fair play, he cared na deils a boddle. She ventured forward on the light; But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, A winnock-bunker in the east, There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; Coffins stood round like open presses, That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses; And, by some devilish cantraip slight, Each in its cauld hand held a light, By which heroic Tam was able To note upon the haly table 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; Whom his ain son o' life bereft, The gray hairs yet stack to the heft; Which e'en to name wad be unlawfu'. As Tammie glower'd, amazed and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious; The piper loud and louder blew; The dancers quick and quicker flew; They reeled, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, And coost her duddies to the wark, And linkit at it in her sark! Now, Tam, oh, Tam! had they been queans A' plump and strapping, in their teens, That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie. There was ae winsome wench and waulie, That night enlisted in the core (Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore! For mony a beast to dead she shot, And perish'd mony a bonny boat, And shook baith meikle corn and bear, Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn, That while a lassie she had worn, |