But Tam kenned what was what fu' brawlie: "There was ae winsome wench and walie,"[95] That night inlisted in the core (Lang after kenned on Carrick shore! For mony a beast to dead she shot, And perished mony a bonnie boat, And shook baith meikle corn and bear,[96] And kept the country-side in fear), Her cutty sark,[97] o' Paisley harn,[98] That while a lassie she had worn, In longitude though sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie.[99] Ah! little kenned thy reverend grannie, That sark she coft[100] for her wee Nannie, Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches), Wad ever graced a dance of witches! But here my muse her wing maun cour[101]; 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 glow'red and fidged fu' fain, And hotched and blew wi' might and main: Till first ae caper, syne anither, Tam tints[102] 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,[103] When plundering hords assail their byke[104]; 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' mony an eldritch[105] screech and hollow. Ah, Tam! ah, Tam, thou'll get thy 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 of the brig; There at them thou thy tail may toss,-- A running stream they dare na 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 grey 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. FOOTNOTES: [48] Fellows. [49] Thirsty. [50] Road. [51] Ale. [52] Gates or openings through a hedge. [53] Good-for-nothing fellow. [54] Nonsensical. [55] Chattering fellow. [56] Grain sent to the mill to be ground; _i.e._, that every time he carried the corn to the mill he sat to drink with the miller. [57] Nag that required shoeing. [58] Jean Kennedy, a public-house keeper at Kirkoswald. [59] Makes me weep.