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 strappin' in their teens;
Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen,°
Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linen!
Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair,
That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair,
I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies,°
For ae blink o' the bonny burdies°!
But withered beldams,° auld and droll
Rigwooddie hags wad spean° a foal,
Louping and flinging on a cummock,°
I wonder didna turn thy stomach.
But Tam kenned what was what fu' brawlie°;
There was ae winsome wench and walie,
That night enlisted in the core,°
(Lang after kenned on Carrick shore;
For monie a beast to dead she shot,
And perished monie a bonny boat,
And shook baith meikle corn and bear,°
And kept the country-side in fear.)
Her cutty-sark,° o' Paisley harn,°
That while a lassie she had won,
In longitude though sorely scanty,
It was her best, and she was vauntie.°
Ah! little kenned thy reverend grannie
That sark she coft° for her wee Nannie,
Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches),
Wad ever graced a dance o' 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 e'en° enriched:
Even Satan glow'red and fidged fu' fain,°
And hotched and blew wi' might and main:
Till first ae caper, syne° anither,
Tam tinto 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.
As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,°
When plundering herds assail their byke°;
As open poussie'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° screech and hollow.
Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get they 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,
And win the keystane o' the brig;
There at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running-stream they darena cross°!
But ere the keystane she could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake!
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,
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, take 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.
O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border° his steed was the best;
And, save his good broadsword, he weapons had none,
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,
He swam the Esk river° where ford there was none;
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late: 10
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall,
Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all:
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, 15
(For the poor craven bridgroom said never a word,)
66 O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"—
"I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied;
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like the tide
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up,
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar. 30
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
There never a hall such a galliard° did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and
plume;
And the bride-maidens whisper'd, ""Twere better by far,
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur°;
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young
Lochinvar.
There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;
There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war.
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
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