When chapman billies[150] leave the street, And drouthy[151] neebors neebors meet, As market-days are wearing late An' folk begin to tak the gate;[152] While we sit bousing at the nappy,[153] An' getting fou[154] and unco[155] happy, We think na on the lang Scots miles, The mosses,[156] waters, slaps,[157] and styles, 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. This truth fand honest Tam O'Shanter, As he frae Ayr ae[158] night did canter, (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses, For honest men and bonnie lasses.) O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice! She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum,[159] A blethering,[160] blustering, drunken blellum;[161] That frae November till October, Ae market-day thou wasna sober; That ilka melder,[162] wi' the miller, Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; That every naig was ca'd[163] a shoe on, The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday, Thou drank wi' Kirten Jean till Monday. She prophesy'd that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon, Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,[164] To think how monie counsels sweet, How monie lengthened, sage advices The husband frae the wife despises! . . Nae man can tether time or tide; The hour approaches Tam maun[165] ride; That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, That dreary hour he mounts his beast in; And sic[166] 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 swallowed; Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed: That night, a child might understand, The Deil had business on his hand. (Mounted on his gray mare Maggie, Tarn pursues his homeward way in safety till, reaching Kirk-Alloway, he sees the windows in a blaze, and, looking in, beholds a dance of witches, with Old Nick playing the fiddle. Most of the witches are any thing but inviting, but there is one winsome wench, called Nannie, who dances in a "cutty-sark," or short smock.)