Page:Four funny tales.pdf/3



Ae market-day thou was nae ſober; That ilka melder, wi' the miller Thou fat as lang as thou had filler: That ev'ry naig was ca'd a ſhoe on, The ſmith and thee gat roaring fou on: That at the L———d's houſe, ev'n on Sunday, Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. She propheſy'd, that, late or ſoon, Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon; Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, By Alloway's auld haunted Kirk.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet, To think how mony counſels ſweet, How mony lengthen'd ſage advices, The huſband frae the wife deſpiſes!

But to our tale: Ae market night, Tam had got planted unco right; Faſt by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi' reaming ſwats, that drank divinely; And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, His ancient, trufly, drouthy crony: Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither: They had been fou for weeks thegither. The night drave on wi' fangs an clatter: And ay he ale was growing better:- The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favours, ſecret, ſweet and precious: The Souter tauld his queereſt ſtories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: The ſtorm without might rair and ruſtle, Tam did na mind the form a whiſtle.

Care mad to ſee a man fae happy, E'en drown'd himſel amang the nappy: As bees flee hame wi'lades o' treaſure, The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleaſure: Kings may be bleſt, but Tam was glorious, O'er a'the ills o' life victorious!