Whom his ain son of life bereft,
The grey hairs yet stack to the heft;
Wi' mair of horrible and awefu',
Which even to name wad be unlawfu'.

As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious;
The Piper loud and louder grew,
The dancers quick and quicker flew,

cleekit,

Till ilka carlin swat and 1reekit,

And coost her duddies to the wark,
And linket at it in her sark!

Now. Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans,
A' plump and strapping in their teens!
Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flainen,
Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linen!-
Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair,
That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair,
I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies,
For ae blink o' the bonie burdies!
But wither'd beldams, auld and droll,
Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal,
Louping an' flinging on a crummock,
I wonder did na turn thy stomach.

But Tam kent what was what fu' brawlie:
There was ae winsome wench and 4 waulie,
That night enlisted in the core;
Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore;
(For many a beast to dead she shot,
And perish'd mony a bonnie boat,
And shook baith meikle corn and 5 bear,
And held the country-side in fear);
Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn,
That while a lassie she had worn,
In longitude tho' sorely scanty,

It was her best, and she was 7 vauntie.
Ah! little kent thy reverend grannie,
That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches),
Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches!

But here my Muse her wing maun cour,
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 bewitch'd,
And thought his very een enrich'd;
Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain,
And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main :
Till first ae caper, syne anither,
Tam tint 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.

In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin!
In vain thy Kate awaits thy coming!
Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the key-stane 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,
Each man, and mother's son, take heed:
Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd,
Or cutty-sarks rin in your mind,
Think! ye may buy the joys o'er dear,
Remember Tam o'Shanters meare.

ROBT. BURNS.

THE JOLLY BEGGARS.

A CANTATA.

[This inimitable poem, unheard of while the poet lived, was first given to the world, with other characteristic pieces, by Mr. Stewart of Glasgow, in the year 1801. Some have surmised that it is not the work of Burns; but the parentage is certain: the original manuscript at the time of its composition, in 1785, was put into the hands of Mr. Richmond of Mauchline, and afterwards given by Burns himself to Mr. Woodburn, factor of the laird of Craigengillan: the song of "For a'that, and a'that" was inserted by the poet, with his name, in the Musical Museum of February, 1790. Cromek admired, yet did not, from overruling advice, print it in the Reliques, for which he was sharply censured by Sir Walter Scott, in the Quarterly Review. The scene of the poem is in Mauchline, where Poosie Nansie had her change house.]

2 Clothing.

6 Barley.

7 Proud.

* Must hold.

VOL. III.-W. H.

• Wool.

RECITATIVO.

When 'lyart leaves bestrow the yird,
Or wavering like the 2 bauckie-bird,
Bedim cauld Boreas' blast;
When hailstanes drive wi' bitter 3 skyte
And infant frosts begin to bite,

In hoary cranreuch drest;
Ae night at e'en a merry core
O' randie, gangrel bodies,

In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore,
To drink their 6 orra duddies:
Wi' quaffing and laughing,
They ranted an' they sang;
Wi' jumping and thumping,
The vera girdle rang.

First, neist the fire, in auld red rags,
Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,
And knapsack a' in order;
His doxy lay within his arm,
Wi'usquebae an' blankets warm-
She blinket on her sodger:
An' ay he gies the tozie drab

9

The tither skelpin' kiss, While she held up her greedy gab Just like an aumous dish. 'Ilk smack still, did crack still, Just like a cadger's whip, Then staggering and swaggering He roar'd this ditty up

AIR.

Tune-" Soldier's Joy."

I am a son of Mars,
Who have been in many wars,
And show my cuts and scars
Wherever I come;

This here was for a wench,
And that other in a trench,
When welcoming the French
At the sound of the drum.
Lal de daudle, &c.

My prenticeship I past
Where my leader breath'd his last,
When the bloody die was cast

On the heights of Abram :

I served out my trade

When the gallant game was play'd, And the 10 Moro low was laid

At the sound of the drum.

1 Falling.

3 Stroke.

Lal de daudle, &c.

5 Tramping.

7 Sweetheart.

9 Mouth.

2 Bat.

4 Hoarfrost

Superfluous rags.

8 Whiskey.

10 Fort at Havana.