How mony 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,
Wi' reaming swats,1 that drank divinely;
And at his elbow, Souter Johnie,
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony:
Tam lo'ed him like a very brither;
They had been fou for weeks thegither.
The night drave on wi' sangs and clat-
ter;

And ay the ale was growing better:
The landlady and Tam grew gracious,
Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious:
The souter2 tauld his queerest stories;
The landlord's laugh was ready chorus:
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 drowned himself amang the nappy! As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, The minutes winged their way wi' pleas

ure:

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; 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
Evanishing amid the storm.

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 show'rs 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 gray mare, Meg, 1 frothing ale.

2 shoemaker.

And past the birks3 and meikle stane, Where drunken Charlie brak's neckbane;

And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, Where hunters fand the murdered bairn; And near the thorn, aboon the well, Whare Mungo's mither hanged hersel. Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling stormroars 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 seemed in a bleeze; Thro'ilka bore the beams were glancing; And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!
What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil;
Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil!
The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's nod-
dle,

Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle.
But Maggie stood right sair astonished,
Till, by the heel and hand admonished,
She ventured forward on the light;
And, wow! Tam saw an unco sight!
Warlocks and witches in a dance;
Nae cotillion brent new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and
reels,

Put life and mettle in their heels.
At winnock-bunker 6 in the east,
There sat old Nick, in shape o' beast;

1 hurried. 2 smothered.
4 big. 5 hole in the wall.

3 birches. 6 window-seat.

A towzie1 tyke, black, grim, and large,
To gie them music was his charge:
He screw'd the pipes and gart 2 them
skirl,3

4

Till roof and rafters a' did dirl.
Coffins stood round, like open presses,
That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses;
And by some devilish cantrip 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; 5
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns;
A thief, new-cutted frae a rape,
Wi' his last gasp his gab 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 gray hairs yet stack to the heft;
Wi' mair of horrible and awfu',
Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'.
As Tammie glowr'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 crossed, 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 thae been
queans

A' plump and strapping in their teens; Their sarks, instead o' creeshie 8 flannen, Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linnen! 9

Thir 19 breeks o' mine, my only pair, That ance were plush, o' gude blue hair, I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies," For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies!

But Tam kend what was what fu'
brawlie,

There was ae winsome wench and walie,
That night enlisted in the core,
(Lang after kend on Carrick shore;
For mony a beast to dead she shot,
And perished mony a bonnie boat,
And shook baith meikle corn and bear,
And kept the country-side in fear,)
Her cutty 2 sark, o' Paisley harn,3
That, while a lassie, she had worn,
In longitude tho' sorely scanty,
It was her best, and she was vauntie. ---
Ah! little kend thy reverend grannie,
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;
To sing how Nannie lap and flang
(A souple jade she was, and strang),
And how Tam stood, like ane bewitched,
And thought his very een enriched;
Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain,
And hotch'd and blew wi' might and
main:

Till first ae caper, syne 5 anither,
Tam tint his reason a' thegither,
Androars out, "Weeldone, Cutty-sark!
And in an instant all was dark;
And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
When out the hellish legion sallied.
As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,7
When plundering herds assail their
byke;8

As open pussie's mortal foes,

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' monie an eldritch skreech and hol-
low.

Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get thy

Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the key-stane1 of the brig;
There at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they darena cross.
But ere the key-stane she could make,
The fient2 a tail she had to shake!
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;3
But little wist she Maggie's mettle-
Ae spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind her ain gray 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, tak heed;
Whene'er to drink you are inclined,
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear,
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.

JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO.

JOHN Anderson, my jo, John,

When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven,

Your bonnie brow was brent 4 But now your brow is beld, John,

Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo.

John Anderson, my jo, John,

We clamb the hill thegither;
And monie a canty day, John,

We've had wi' ane anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.

1 It is a well-known fact, that witches, or any evil spirits, have no power to follow a poor wight any farther than the middle of the next running stream. It may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted traveller, that when he falls in with bogles whatever danger may be in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turning back.-R. B.

2 deuce (fiend).

3 aim. 4 smooth.

1 by and by.

2 Although the "Cotter," in the Saturday Night, is an exact copy of my father in his manners, his family devotions, and exhortations, yet the other parts of the description do not apply to our family. None of us ever were " At service out amang the neebors roun'." Instead of our depositing our "sair-won penny-fee" with our parents, my father labored hard, and lived with the most rigid economy, that he might be able to keep his children at home. Gilbert Burns to Dr. Currie, Oct. 24, 1800.

3 attentively.

5 news.

enquires. 6 makes.

Their master's an' their mistress's command,

The younkers a' are warned to obey; And mind their labors wi' an eydent1 hand,

And ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk 2 or play:

"And oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway, And mind your duty, duly, morn and night!

Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, Implore His counsel and assisting might:

They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"

But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door;

Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the

board,

page,