Up the gavel-end thick spreading
Crap the clasping ivy green;
Back owre, firs the high craigs cleeding,
Rais'd a' round a cozey screen;

Down below, a flowery meadow
Join'd the burnie's rambling line ;-
Here it was, that Howe the widow,
This sam day, set up her sign.

Brattling down the brae, and near its
Bottom, Will first marvelling sees
PORTER, ALE, and BRITISH SPIRITS,
Painted bright between twa trees.

"Godsake! Tam, here's walth for drinking; "Wha can this new-comer be ?"

"Hoot (quo' Tam), there's drouth in thinking"Let's in, Will, and syne we'll see."

Nae mair time they took to speak or
Think o' ought but reaming jugs;
Till three times in humming liquor
Ilk lad deeply laid his lugs.

Slocken'd now, refresh'd and talking,

In cam Meg (weel skill'd to please) "Sirs! ye're surely tyr'd wi' walking ;—

"Ye maun taste my bread and cheese."

"Thanks," quo' Will ;-" I canna' tarry, "Pick-mirk night is setting in,

"Jean, poor thing's! her lane and eery→ "I maun to the road and rin."

'Hoot! (quo Tam) what's a' the hurry? 'Hame's now scarce a mile o' gait'Come! sit down-Jean winna wearie: 'Lord! I'm sure it's no sae late!"

Will, o'ercome wi' Tam's oration,
Baith fell to and ate their fill-
"Tam! (quo' Will) in mere discretion
"We maun hae tho Widow's gill."

After ae gill cam anither

Meg sat cracking 'tween them twa, Bang! cam in Mat Smith and's brither, Geordie Brown and Sandie Shaw.

Neebors wha ne'er thought to meet here,
Now sat down wi' double glee,
Ilka gill grew sweet and sweeter!-
Will gat hame 'tween twa and three.

Jean, poor thing! had lang been greetin; Will, neist mornin, blam'd Tam Lowes,

But ere lang, an owkly meetin

Was set up at Muggie Howe's,

Maist things hae a sma' beginnin,

But wha kens how things will end ?
Owkly clubs are nae great sinnin,
Gin fouk hae enough to spend.

But nae man o' sober thinkin

E'er will say that things can thrive, If there's spent in owkly drinkin What keeps wife and weans alive,

Drink maun ay hae conversation,
Ilka social soul allows;

But in this reformin nation,

Wha can speak without the NEWS?

News, first meant for state physicians,
Deeply skill'd in courtly drugs;
Now when a' are politicians,
Just to set folks by the lugs.

Maggie's club, wha cou'd get nae light
On some things that shou'd be clear,
Fand ere lang the fau't, and ae night
Clubb'd and gat the GAZETTEER *.

* The Edinburgh Gazetter, a violent opposition paper, published in 1793-4; the publication of which has been discontinued some years back.

Twice a week to Maggie's cot-house,
Swith! by post the papers fled !
Thoughts spring up like plants in hot-house,
Every time the news are read.

Ik ane's wiser than anither,

"Things are no gaen right, (quo' Tam); "Let us aftner meet thegither;

"Twice a owke's no worth a d―n."

See them now in grave Convention,
To mak a' things square and even ;
Or at least wi' firm intention

To drink sax nights out o' seven.

Mid this sitting up and drinkin,
Gathering a' the news that fell;
Will, wha was nae yet past thinkin,
Had some battles wi' himsell.

On ae hand, Drink's deadly poison
Bare ilk firm resolve awa';

On the ither, Jean's condition
Rave his very heart in twa.

Weel he saw her smother'd sorrow!
Weel he saw her bleeching cheek!
Mark'd the smile she strave to borrow,

Whan, poor thing! she cou'd nae speak!

Jean, at first, took little heed o'

Owkly clubs 'mang three or four, Thought, kind soul, that Will had need o' Heartsome hours whan wark was owre.

But whan now that nightly meetings
Sat and drank frae sax till twa;
Whan she found that hard-earn'd gettings
Now on drink ware thrown awa;

Saw her Will, wha ance sae cheerie
Raise ilk morning wi' the lark,

Now grown mauchless, dowf and sweer aye
To look near his farm or wark ;

Saw him tyne his manly spirit,

Healthy bloom, and sprightly ee; And o' luve and hame grown wearit, Nightly frae his family flee;

Wha cou'd blame her heart's complaining?
Wha condemn her sorrows meek?
Or the tears that now ilk e'ening
Bleach'd her lately crimson'd cheek!

Will, wha lang had rued and swither'd, (Aye asham'd o' past disgrace) Mark'd the roses as they wither'd

Fast on Jeanie's lovely face!