That dreary hour, he mounts his beast in; And sic 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 show’rs rose on the blast; The speedy gleams the darkness swallow’d; Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow’d: That night, a child might understand, The Deil had business on his hand. Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg, A better never lifted leg, Tam skelpit on thro’ dub and mire, Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet; Whiles crooning o’er some auld Scots sonnet; Whiles glow’ring round wi’ prudent cares, Lest bogles catch him unawares. Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. By this time he was cross the ford, Where in the snaw the chapman smoor’d; And past the birks and meikle stane, Where drunken Charlie brak’s neck-bane; And thro’ the whins, and by the cairn, Where hunters fand the murder’d bairn; And near the thorn, aboon the well, Where Mungo’s mither hang’d hersel. Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars thro’ the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll: When, glimmering thro’ the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem’d in a bleeze; Thro’ ilka bore the beams were glancing; And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi’ tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi’ usquebae, we’ll face the devil! The swats sae ream’d in Tammie’s noddle, Fair play, he car’d na deils a boddle! But Maggie stood right sair astonish’d, Till, by the heel and hand admonish’d, She ventur’d forward on the light; And, vow! Tam saw an unco sight! Warlocks and witches in a dance! Nae cotillon brent new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker in the east, There sat auld Nick, in shape o’ beast— A touzie tyke, black, grim, and large! To gie them music was his charge: He screw’d the pipes and gart them skirl, Till roof and rafters a’ did dirl. Coffins stood round like open presses, That shaw’d the dead in their last dresses; And by some devilish cantraip sleight 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; Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen’d bairns; A thief new-cutted frae the rape— Wi’ his last gasp his gab did gape; Five tomahawks, wi’ blude red rusted; Five scymitars, wi’ murder crusted; A garter, which a babe had strangled;