by Robert Burns
Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,
To think how mony counsels sweet,
How mony lengthen’d, sage advices, 35
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,
Wi reaming sAats, that drank divinely; 40
And at his elbow, Souter Johnie,
His ancient, trusty, drougthy crony:
Tam lo’ed him like a very brither;
They had been fou for weeks thegither.
The night drave on wi’ sangs an’ clatter; 45
And aye the ale was growing better:
The Landlady and Tam grew gracious,
Wi’ favours secret, 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.
Care, mad to see a man sae happy,
E’en drown’d himsel amang the nappy.
As bees flee hame wi’ lades o’ treasure, 55
The minutes wing’d their way wi’ pleasure:
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O’er a’ the ills o’ life victorious!
But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flow’r, its bloom is shed; 60
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white — then melts for ever;
Or like the Borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the Rainbow’s lovely form 65
Evanishing amid the storm. —
Nae man can tether Time nor 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; 70
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; 75
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, 80
Tam skelpit on thro’ dub and mire,
Despising wind, and rain, and fire;
Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet,
Whiles crooning o’er some auld Scots sonnet,
Whiles glow’rin round wi’ prudent cares, 85
Lest bogles catch him unawares;
Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,
Where ghaists and houlets nightly cry.
By this time he was cross the ford,
Where in the snaw the chapman smoor’d; 90
And past the birks and meikle stane,
Where drunken Charlie brak’s neck-bane;
And thro’ the whins, and by the cairn,
Where hunters fand the murder’d bairn;
And near the thorn, aboon the well, 95
Where 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 bore the beams were glancing,
And loud resounded mirth and dancing.
Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! 105
What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
Wi’ tippenny, we fear nae evil;
Wi’ usquabae, we’ll face the devil!
The swats sae ream’d in Tammie’s noddle,
Fair play, he car’d na deils a boddle, 110
But Maggie stood, right sair astonish’d,
Till, by the heel and hand admonish’d,
She ventur’d forward on the light;
And, wow! Tam saw an unco sight!
Warlocks and witches in a dance: 115
Nae cotillon, 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; 120
A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,
To gie them music was his charge:
He screw’d the pipes and gart them skirl,
Till roof and rafters a’ did dirl. —
Coffins stood round, like open presses, 125
That shaw’d the Dead in their last dresses;
And (by some devilish cantraip sleight)
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 a rape,
Wi’ his last gasp his gabudid gape;
Five tomahawks, wi’ blude red-rusted: 135
Five scimitars, wi’ murder crusted;
A garter which a babe had strangled:
A knife, a father’s throat had mangled.
Whom his ain son of life bereft,
The grey-hairs yet stack to the heft; 140
Wi’ mair of horrible and awfu’,
Which even 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, 145
The dancers quick and quicker flew,
The reel’d, 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! 150
Now Tam, O Tam! had they been queans,
A’ plump and strapping in their teens!
Their sarks, instead o’ creeshie flainen,
Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linen! —
Thir breeks o’ mine, my only pair, 155
That ance were plush o’ guid blue hair,
I wad hae gien them off my hurdies,
For ae blink o’ the bonie burdies!
But wither’d beldams, auld and droll,
Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, 160
Louping an’ flinging on a crummock.
I wonder did na turn thy stomach.
But Tam kent what was what fu’ brawlie:
There was ae winsome wench and waulie
That night enlisted in the core, 165
Lang after ken’d on Carrick shore;
(For mony a beast to dead she shot,
And perish’d mony a bonie boat,
And shook baith meikle corn and bear,
And kept the country-side in fear); 170
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.
Ah! little ken’d thy reverend grannie, 175
That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
Wi twa pund Scots (‘twas a’ her riches),
Wad ever grac’d a dance of witches!
But here my Muse her wing maun cour,
Sic flights are far beyond her power; 180
To sing how Nannie lap and flang,
(A souple jade she was and strang),
And how Tam stood, like ane bewithc’d,
And thought his very een enrich’d:
Even Satan glowr’d, and fidg’d fu’ fain, 185
And hotch’d and blew wi’ might and main:
Till first ae caper, syne anit
her,
Tam tint his reason a thegither,
And roars out, “Weel done, Cutty-sark!”
And in an instant all was dark: 190
And scarcely had he Maggie rallied.
When out the hellish legion sallied.
As bees bizz out wi’ angry fyke,
When plundering herds assail their byke;
As open pussie’s mortal foes, 195
When, pop! she starts before their nose;
As eager runs the market-crowd,
When “Catch the thief!” resounds aloud;
So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
Wi’ mony an eldritch skreich and hollow. 200
Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou’ll get thy fairin!
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, 205
And win the key-stone o’ the brig;
There, at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they dare na cross.
But ere the keystane she could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake! 210
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
And flew at Tam wi’ furious ettle;
But little wist she Maggie’s mettle!
Ae spring brought off her master hale, 215
But left behind her ain grey tail:
The carlin claught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.
Now, wha 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 rin in your mind,
Think ye may buy the joys o’er dear;
Remember Tam o’ Shanter’s mare.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
311.
On the Birth of a Posthumous Child
Born in peculiar circumstances of family distress.
SWEET flow’ret, pledge o’ meikle love,
And ward o’ mony a prayer,
What heart o’ stane wad thou na move,
Sae helpless, sweet, and fair?
November hirples o’er the lea, 5
Chill, on thy lovely form:
And gane, alas! the shelt’ring tree,
Should shield thee frae the storm.
May He who gives the rain to pour,
And wings the blast to blaw, 10
Protect thee frae the driving show’r,
The bitter frost and snaw.
May He, the friend o’ Woe and Want,
Who heals life’s various stounds,
Protect and guard the mother plant, 15
And heal her cruel wounds.
But late she flourish’d, rooted fast,
Fair in the summer morn,
Now feebly bends she in the blast,
Unshelter’d and forlorn. 20
Blest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem,
Unscath’d by ruffian hand!
And from thee many a parent stem
Arise to deck our land!
Chronological List of Poems
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312.
Elegy on the late Miss Burnet of Monboddo
LIFE ne’er exulted in so rich a prize,
As Burnet, lovely from her native skies;
Nor envious death so triumph’d in a blow,
As that which laid th’ accomplish’d Burnet low.
Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget? 5
In richest ore the brightest jewel set!
In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown,
As by His noblest work the Godhead best is known.
In vain ye flaunt in summer’s pride, ye groves;
Thou crystal streamlet with thy flowery shore, 10
Ye woodland choir that chaunt your idle loves,
Ye cease to charm; Eliza is no more.
Ye healthy wastes, immix’d with reedy fens;
Ye mossy streams, with sedge and rushes stor’d:
Ye rugged cliffs, o’erhanging dreary glens, 15
To you I fly — ye with my soul accord.
Princes, whose cumb’rous pride was all their worth,
Shall venal lays their pompous exit hail,
And thou, sweet Excellence! forsake our earth,
And not a Muse with honest grief bewail? 20
We saw thee shine in youth and beauty’s pride,
And Virtue’s light, that beams beyond the spheres;
But, like the sun eclips’d at morning tide,
Thou left us darkling in a world of tears.
The parent’s heart that nestled fond in thee, 25
That heart how sunk, a prey to grief and care;
So deckt the woodbine sweet yon aged tree;
So, from it ravish’d, leaves it bleak and bare.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
1791
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
313.
Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots
NOW Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets o’ daisies white
Out o’er the grassy lea;
Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams, 5
And glads the azure skies;
But nought can glad the weary wight
That fast in durance lies.
Now laverocks wake the merry morn
Aloft on dewy wing; 10
The merle, in his noontide bow’r,
Makes woodland echoes ring;
The mavis wild wi’ mony a note,
Sings drowsy day to rest:
In love and freedom they rejoice, 15
Wi’ care nor thrall opprest.
Now blooms the lily by the bank,
The primrose down the brae;
The hawthorn’s budding in the glen,
And milk-white is the slae: 20
The meanest hind in fair Scotland
May rove their sweets amang;
But I, the Queen of a’ Scotland,
Maun lie in prison strang.
I was the Queen o’ bonie France, 25
Where happy I hae been;
Fu’ lightly raise I in the morn,
As blythe lay down at e’en:
And I’m the sov’reign of Scotland,
And mony a traitor there; 30
Yet here I lie in foreign bands,
And never-ending care.
But as for thee, thou false woman,
My sister and my fae,
Grim Vengeance yet shall whet a sword 35
That thro’ thy soul shall gae;
The weeping blood in woman’s breast
Was never known to thee;
Nor th’ balm that draps on wounds of woe
Frae woman’s pitying e’e. 40
My son! my son! may kinder stars
Upon thy fortune shine;
And may those pleasures gild thy reign,
That ne’er wad blink on mine!
God keep thee frae thy mother’s faes, 45
Or turn their hearts to thee:
And where thou meet’st thy mother’s friend,
Remember him for me!
O! soon, to me, may Summer suns
Nae mair light up the morn! 50
Nae mair to me the Autumn winds
Wave o’er the yellow corn?
And, in the narrow house of death,
Let Winter round me rave;
And the next flow’rs that deck the Spring, 55
Bloom on my peaceful grave!
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
314.
There’ll never be Peace till Jamie comes hame (Song)
BY yon Castle wa’, at the close of the day,
I heard a man sing, tho’ his head it was grey:
And as he was singing, the tears doon came, —
There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
The Church is in ruins, the State is in jars, 5
Delusions, oppressions, and murderous wars,
We dare na weel say’t, but we ken wha’s to blame, —
There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword,
But now I greet round their green beds in the yerd; 10
It brak the sweet heart o’ my faithful and dame, —
There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
Now life is a burden that bows me down,
Sin’ I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown;
But till my last moments my words are the same, — 15
There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
315.
Out over the Forth (Song)
OUT over the Forth, I look to the North;
But what is the north and its Highlands to me?
The south nor the east gie ease to my breast,
The far foreign land, or the wide rolling sea.
But I look to the west when I gae to rest, 5
That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be;
For far in the west lives he I loe best,
The man that is dear to my babie and me.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
316.
The Banks o’ Doon (First Version) (Song)
First Version
SWEET are the banks — the banks o’ Doon,