40 "Blow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust! See stern Oppression's iron grip, Some coarser substance, unrefin'd 21 O Tam, had'st thou but been sae wise, As taen thy ain wife Kate's advice! She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum, A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum; That frae November till October, Ae market-day thou was nae sober; That ilka melder wi' the miller, Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on, The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday, Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. She prophesied, that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon, Or catch'd 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 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, bleezing finely, 31 Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; 40 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: By this time he was cross the ford, Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd; And past the birks and meikle stane, Whare drunken Charlie brak 's neck-bane; And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn; And near the thorn, aboon the well, Whare 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 bore the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing. 100 130 There sat Auld Nick, in shape o' beast; 120 140 170 There was ae winsome wench and wawlie, 180 But here my Muse her wing maun cour, Sic flights are far beyond her power: To sing how Nannie lap and flang (A souple jad 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'd and blew wi' might and main; Till first ae caper, syne anither, Tam tint his reason a' thegither, And roars out: "Weel done, Cutty-sark!" And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, When, pop! she starts before their nose; 190 When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud: So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' monie an eldritch skriech and hollo. 200 Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin! In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin! |