'Twas on a summer's afternoon, Just after you had gane to Troon, I foregather'd wi' ane Tammas Trail, Auld mate o' mine who bides in Crail. A man o' means, wi' nets and boat, A fisher keen, and much afloat; A very decent chappie Tam, Who, like me, dearly lo'ed his dram. He kent my weakness, nocht would serve him, But I maun tak' my supper wi' him. The supper was baith het and good-- No that I'm nice about my food; We'd rizzared haddies, if you please, Tripe and ingans, toasted cheese, And whiskey grand frae Cameron Brig, Better was never 'stilled by Haig. And, oh! a jolly time we had, For my pairt I was skirlin' mad, And Tammie, he was in his glory, Just ripplin' o'er wi' joke and story. But a' things good maun hae an end, Baith joys and pains o' human kind, And Time, the thief, wi' spitefu' stroke, Snecket our fun 'fore ten o'clock-- That nicht--the thocht o't gars me grue, Ahint the joy there cam' sic rue. Now, Jocky, I must here explain I wasna drunk, just fou ye ken; Just fresh and free and swaggerin' canty, And bauld as Wallace wight and vaunty. My hairt was licht, my feet were dancin' Like struttin' cock, or stallion prancin'. Bethought me, as I steered alang, I'll get my clubs, to the Links I'll gang. Should a' the folk to roost hae gane, I car'd na if I played alane. The nicht was fine, the moon was shinin', The time between the mirk and gloamin'; As far as I could view the green, No living soul could there be seen. [Illustration]