Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn! What dangers thou canst mak' us scorn! Wi' tippenny[69] we fear nae evil; Wi' usquabae[70] we'll face the devil! The swats[71] sae reamed[72] in Tammie's noddle, Fair play, he cared na de'ils a boddle.[73] 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[74] in the east, There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;-- A towzie tyke,[75] black, grim, and large; To gi'e them music was his charge: He screwed the pipes and gart them skirl,[76] Till roof and rafters a' did dirl![77] Coffins stood round, like open presses, That shawed the dead in their last dresses; And by some devilish cantrip[78] 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;[79] Twa span-lang, wee unchristened bairns; A thief new-cutted frae a rape, Wi' his last gasp his gab[80] did gape; Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted; Five scimitars 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 o' horrible and awfu', Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'. As Tammie glow'red,[81] 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,[82] Till ilka carlin[83] swat and reekit,[84] And coost[85] her duddies[86] to the wark, And linket[87] at it in her sark![88] Now Tam, O Tam! had they been queans A' plump and strapping, in their teens; Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen,[89] Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linen[90], Thir breeks[91] o' mine, my only pair, That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies, For ane blink o' the bonnie burdies! But withered beldams old and droll, Rigwoodie[92] hags wad spean[93] a foal, Lowping and flinging on a crummock,[94] I wonder didna turn thy stomach.