Robert Burns, dichter en Vrijmetselaar
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When chapman billies leave the street
And drouthy neebors, neebors meet
As market-days are wearing late
An' folk begin to tak the gate
While we sit bousing at the nappy
An' getting fou and unco happy
We think na on the lang Scots miles
The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles
That lie between us and our hame
Whare 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 and bonny lasses).

O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise
As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!
She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum
A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum
That frae November till October
Ae market-day thou was nae sober
That ilka melder wi' the miller
Thou sat as Lang as thou had siller
That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on
The smith and thee gat roaring fou on
That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday
Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday
She prophesied, 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, trusty, drouthy crony
Then comes the climax of good fellowship
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither
They had been fou for weeks thegither

The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter
And ay the 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 storm a whistle

Care, mad to see a man sae 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!

But pleasures are like poppies spread
You seize the flow'r, 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 Tam 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 showers 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 grey meare Meg
A better never lifted leg
Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire
Despising wind, and rain, and fire

Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet
Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet
Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares
Lest bogles catch him unawares
And so he approaches the haunted kirk

Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh
Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry

By this time he was cross the ford
Whare, in the snaw, the chapman smoor'd
And past the birks and meikle stane
Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane
And thro' the whins, and by the cairn
Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn
And near the thorn, aboon the well
Whare 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' tippeny, we fear nae evil
Wi' usquabae, 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, wow! Tam saw an unco sight!

Warlocks and witches in a dance
Nae cotillion, 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 towzie 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 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, unchristen'd bairns
A thief, new-cutted frae a 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
A knife, a father's throat had mangled
Whom his ain son o' life bereft
The grey hairs yet stack to the heft
wi' mair o' 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 blew
The dancers quick and quicker flew
They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit
Till ilka carlin swat and reekit
And coost her duddies to the wark
And linket at it in her sark

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Now, Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans
A' plump and strapping in their teens
Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen
Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linen!
Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair
That ance were plush, o' gude 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
Lowping and flinging on a crummock
I wonder didna turn thy stomach

But Tam kend what was what fu' brawlie
There was ae winsome wench and wawlie
That night enlisted in the core
Lang after kend on Carrick shore
(For monie a beast to dead she shot
An' perish'd monie a bonie boat
And shook baith meikle corn and bear
And kept 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 vauntie

Ah! little kend 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 as far beyond her power
To sing how Nannie lap and flang
( A souple jad 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

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 runs the market-crowd
When 'catch the thief' resounds aloud
So Maggie runs, the witches follow
Wi' money an eldritch skreech 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 key-stane of the brig
There, at them thou thy tail may toss
A running stream they dare na cross!
But ere the key-stane 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 inclin'd
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare