Alloway-kirk, the scene of the following Poem is an old Ruin
on the banks of the river Doon in Ayrshire, & hard by the
great road from Ayr to Maybole. - A Drawing of the Ruin
will make its appearance in Grose's Antiquities of Scot-
Land. -
When chapmen billies leave the street,
And drouthie neebors, neebors meet,
As Market-days are wearing late,
And folk begin to take the gate:
While we sit bowsing at the nappy,
And getting fou, & unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps & stiles,
That lie between us & our hame,
Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. -
This truth fand honest Tam o'Shanter
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter;
(Auld Ayr wham ne'er a town surpasses
For honest men & bonie lasses!)
O Tam, hadst thou but been sae wise
As taen thy ain wike Kate's advice!
She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,
A bletherin, blusterin, drunken blellum;
That frae November till October,
As Market-day thou was na sober;
That ilka melder, wi' the Miller,
Thou sat as lang as thou had siller:
That every naig was ca'd a shoe on,
The Smith & thee gat roarin fou on:
That at the L-d's house even on Sunday,
Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday.
She prophesied, that late or soon
Thou wad be found deep-drown'd in Doon;
Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk,
By Aloway'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
But to out Tale: ae Market-night,
Tam had got planted, unco right,
Fast by an ingle bleezin finely,
Wi' reaming swats that drank divinely,
And at his elbow, Souter Johnie,
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony,
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither,
They had been fou for weeks thegither
And ay the ale was growing better;
The landlady & Tam grew gracious,
Wi' favors, secret, sweet & precious;
The Souter tauld his queerest stories,
The Landlord's laugh was ready chorus:
The storm without might rair & rustle,
Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. -
Care, mad to see a man say happy,
E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy:
As bees flie hame wi' lades o' treasure,
The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure:
Kings
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious!
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious!
But Pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white -- then melts for ever,
Or like the borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow's lovely form,
Evanishing amid the storm.-
Nae man can tether Time or Tide,
The hour approaches Tam maun ride;
That hour o' night's black arch the key-stane,
That dreary hour he mounts his beast in,
And sic a night he takes the road in
As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.
The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last,
The rattling showers rose on the blast,
The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd
Loud, deep & lang the thunder bellow'd :
That night a child might understand
The deil had business on his hand. -
Weel
A better never lifted leg,
Tam skelpit on thro' dub & mire,
Despising wind, & rain & fire;
Whyles holding fast his gude blue bonnet,
Whyles crooning o'er an auld Scots sonnet,
Whyles glowring round wi' prudent cares
Left bogles catch him unawares:
Kirk Aloway was drawing nigh,
Where ghaist & houlets nightly cry. -
By this time he was cross the ford,
Where in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;
And past the birks & meikle stane,
Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane;
And thro' the whins & by the cairn,
Where hunters fand the murder'd bairn;
And near the tree thorn, aboon the well,
Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel.-
Before him Doon pours all his floods,
The doubling storms roars thro' the woods,
The lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Near & more near the thunders roll;
When
When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,
Kirk-Aloway seem'd in a bleeze;
Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing,
And loud resounded mirth & dancing.-
Inspiring bold John Barleycorn,
What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
Wi' tippeny, we dread nae evil;
Wi' usquabae, we'll face the devil!
The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle,
Fair-play, he ear'd ^na deils a boddle;
But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd,
Till by the heel & hand admonish'd,
She ventur'd forward on the light,
And, vow! Tam saw an unco sight!
Warlocks & witches in a dance,
Nae cotillon brent new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys & reels,
Put life & mettle in their heels.-
A winnock-bunker in the east,
There sat auld Nick in shape o' beast,
A touzie tyke, black, grim & large,
To gie them music was his charge:
He
He screw'd the pipes & gart them skirl,
Till roof & rafters a' did dirl. -
Coffins stood round like open presses,
That shaw'd the Dead in their last dresses,
And (by some devilish, cantraip 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;
Twa span-lang, wee, unchirsten'd bairns;
A theif new-cutted frae a gape,
Wi' his last gasp his gab did game;
Five tomahawks wi' blude red rusted;
Five scymitars wi' murder crusted;
A garted which a babe had strangled,
A knife a father's throat had mangled,
Whom his ain son of life bereft,
The grey-hairs yet stack to the heft:
Wi' mai of horrible & awefu',
Which even to name wad be unlawfu'
Three Lawyer's tongues, turn'd inside out,
Wi' lies seam'd like a beggar's clout;
Three
Three Priest's hearts, rotten, black as muck,
Lay stinking, vile, in every neuk.-
As Tammie glowrd, amaz'd & curious,
The mirth & fun grew fast & furious:
The Piper loud & louder blew,
The Dancers quick & quicker flew;
They reel'd, the set, they cross'd, they cleekit,
Till ilka carlin swat & reekit,
And coost her duddies on the wark,
And linket at it in her sark. -
Now Tam! O Tam! had thae been queans,
A' plump & strappin 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' gude blue hair,
I wad hae gien them off mu hurdies,
For ae blink o' the bonie burdies!
But wither'd Carlins, auld & drill ,
Rigwoodie hags was spean a foal,
Loupin & flingin on a crummock,
I wonder didna turn thy stomach.-
But
Even Satan glowr'd, & fidg'd fu' fain,
And hotch'd, & blew wi' might & main: Till first ae caper -- syne anither ---
Tam tint his reason a' the gither,
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,
When plundering herds assail their byke;
As open Pussie's mortal foes,
When, pop, she starts before their nose;
As eager rins the market croud;
When, "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud;
So Maggie rins, the witches follow,
Wi' monie an eldritch shout & hollo. ----
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 key-stane o' the brig;
There
There at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running-stream they dare na cross!
But e'er the key-stane she could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake. --
For Nanny, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggy prest,
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle,
But little kend 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. ----
Vow, wha this tale o' truth shall read,
Each Man & Mother's son, take heed ---
Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd;
Or Cutty-Sarks run in your mind;
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear,
Remember Tam o' Shanter's meare!
__________
Key details
- Archive number
- NTS/02/25/BRN/02/12
- Alt. number
- 3.6108
- Date
- 1790
- On display
- Yes
- Creator
- Burns, Robert (Author)
- Archive number
- NTS/02/25/BRN/02/12
- Alt. number
- 3.6108
- Date
- 1790
- On display
- Yes
- Creator
- Burns, Robert (Author)
Description
Tam o' Shanter - A Tale. 3 double sheets. Fragment, not full poem.
Robert Burns handwrote several copies of Tam o’ Shanter to send to his friends. This version of the poem is unusual because it includes four lines that speak harshly about lawyers and priests. He was advised to remove these lines before publication.
Archive information
Themes
Hierarchy
-
Robert Burns, collection of poems and songs
(
a sub-fonds is a subdivision in the archival material)
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