Five tomahawks, wi' blude red-rufted;
Five fcymitars, wi' murder crufted;
A garter, which a babe had strangled,
A knife, a father's throat had mangled,
Whom his ain fon o' life bereft,

The grey hairs yet ftack to the heft;
Wi' mair o' horrible and awefu',
Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'.

As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious, The mirth and fun grew faft and furious: The piper loud and louder blew ;

The dancers quick and quicker flew ;

They reel'd, they fet, they crofs'd, they cleekit,

Till ilka carlin fwat and reekit,

And cooft her duddies to the wark,

And linket at it in her fark!

Now Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans,

A' plump and ftrapping in their teens,

Their farks, instead o' creefhie flannen,

Been fnaw-white feventeen hunder linnen!
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 bonnie burdies!

But wither'd beldams, auld and droll,
Rigwoodie hags wad fpean a foal,
Lowping an' flinging on a crummock,
I wonder didna turn thy ftomach.

But Tam kend what was what fu' brawlie, There was ae winfome wench and wawlie, That night enlifted in the core, (Lang after kend on Carrick fhore; For mony a beast to dead she shot, And perish'd mony a bonnie boat, And fhook baith meikle corn and bear,

And kept the country-fide in fear),

Her

Her cutty fark, o' Paisley harn,
That while a laffie fhe had worn,
In longitude tho' forely fcanty,
It was her beft, and fhe was vauntie.-
Ah! little kend thy reverend grannie,
That fark fhe coft for her wee Nannie,
Wi' twa pund Scots, ('twas a' her riches),
Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches!

But here my Mufe her wing maun cour;
Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r;
To fing how Nannie lap and flang,

(A fouple jade fhe was and ftrang),
And how Tam ftood, 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 firft ae caper, fyne anither,
Tam tint his reafon a' thegither,

And

And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-fark!"
And in an inftant all was dark:

And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
When out the hellish legion fallied.

As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,
When plundering herds affail their byke;
As open puffie's mortal foes,

When, pop! she starts before their nose;
As eager runs the market-crowd,
When "Catch the thief!" refounds aloud ;
So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
Wi' mony an eldritch skreech and hollow.

Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin! In hell they'll roaft thee like a herrin ! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin!

Kate foon will be a woefu' woman!

Now,

Now, do thy speedy utmoft, Meg,
And win the key-ftane* of the brig;
There at them thou thy tail may tofs,
A running ftream they dare na cross.
But ere the key-ftane fhe could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake!
For Nannie, far before the reft,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;
But little wist she Maggie's mettle
Ae fpring brought off her mafter hale,
But left behind her ain gray tail:
The carlin claught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a ftump.

Now,

It is a well known fact that witches, or any evil spirits, have no power to follow a poor wight any farther than the middle of the next running ftream.-It may be proper likewife to mention to the benighted traveller, that when he falls in with bogies, whatever danger may be in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turning back.