TAM O' SHANTER

ROBERT BURNS

[Alloway Kirk (Church) was a ruin standing near the "auld Brig o' Doon" (old bridge over the Doon), not far from Burns's birthplace. The legend of this poem he used to relate as current in the neighborhood.]

When chapman billies1 leave the street,
And drouthy2 neibors neibors meet,
As market-days are wearing late,
And folk begin to tak the gate;
While we sit bousin at the nappy,3
An' getting fou and unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

10

That frae November till October,
Ae market-day thou was na sober;
That ilka melder11 wi' the miller,
Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;
That ev'ry naig was ca'd12 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 Jean till Monday.
She prophesied that, late or soon,
Thou would be found, deep drown'd in
Doon,

Or catch'd wi' warlocks13 in the mirk,14
By Alloway's auld, haunted kirk.

30

But to our tale:-Ae market night, Tam had got planted unco right, Fast by an ingle, 16 bleezin finely. Wi' reamin swats17 that drank divinely; 40 And at his elbow, Souter18 Johnie, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony: Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither; They had been fou for weeks thegither. The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter; And ay the ale was growing better: The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' secret favours, sweet and precious: The souter tauld his queerest stories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus; 50 The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.

Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet, Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet,

Whiles glow'rin round wi' prudent cares,
Lest bogles catch him unawares.
Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,
Where ghaists and houlets1 nightly cry.

By this time he was cross the ford, Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;2 90

And past the birks and meikle1 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; 100
When, glimmering thro' the groaning
trees,

Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze,?
Thro' ilka bores the beams were glancing,
And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl,16

Till roof and rafters a' did dir1.17
Coffins stood round, like open presses,
That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses;
And by some devilish cantraip sleight18
Each in its cauld hand held a light,
By which heroic Tam was able
To note upon the haly table

130

A murderer's banes in gibbet-airns;
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristened bairns;
A thief, new-cutted frae the rape,19
Wi' his last gasp his gab20 did gape;
Five tomahawks, wi' blude red-rusted:
Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted;
A garter, which a babe had strangled:
A knife, a father's throat had mangled,
Whom his ain son o' life bereft,
The grey hairs yet stack to the heft; 140
Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu',
Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'.

But Tam ken'd what was what fu' brawlie:5

There was ae winsome wench and walie
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 bonie boat,

170

And shook baith meikle corn and bear,8
And kept the country-side in fear);
Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn,
That while a lassie she had worn,
In longitude tho' sorely scanty,

It was her best, and she was vauntie.10

Ah! little ken'd thy reverend grannie, That sark she coft11 for her wee Nannie, Wi' twa pund Scots12 ('twas a' her riches),

Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches!

But here my Muse her wing maun cow'r,

Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r; 180
To sing how Nannie lap13 and flang
(A souple jade she was and strang),
And how Tam stood, like one bewitch'd,
And thought his very een14 enrich'd:
Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd15 fu' fain
And hotch'die and blew wi' might and
main:

Till first ae caper, syne17 anither,
Tam tint18 his reason a' thegither,
And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!"
And in an instant all was dark:
And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
When out the hellish legion sallied.

190

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210

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 of the brig;2
There at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they dare na cross.
But ere the key-stane she could make,
The fient25 a tail she had to shake!
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;26
But little wist she Maggie's mettle-
Ae spring brought aff her master hale,27
But left behind her ain grey tail:
The carlin claught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

Now, wha28 this tale o' truth shall read,
Ilk man, and mother's son, take heed: 220
Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd,
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
Think ye may buy the joys owre29 dear;
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.
(1791)