The Book of Humorous Verse Part 128

That hour, o' night's black arch the keystane, That dreary hour he 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 mare Meg, A better never lifted leg, Tam skelpit on through 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 glowering round wi' prudent cares, Lest bogles catch him unawares: Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry.

By this time he was 'cross the foord, Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd; And past the birks and meikle stane Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane: And through 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 a' his floods; The doubling storm roars through the woods; The lightnings flash frae pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll; When, glimmering through the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze; Through ilka bore the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!

What dangers thou canst mak us scorn!

Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil!-- The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, Fair play, he cared na deils a boddle.

But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd, Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd, She ventured forward on the light; And, wow! Tam saw an unco sight!

Warlocks and witches in a dance; Nae cotillon brent-new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, Put life and mettle i' their heels: At winnock-bunker, i' 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 cantrip 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, unchristian bairns; A thief, new-cutted frae a rape, Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted; Five scimitars, 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 awfu', Which even to name wad be unlawfu'.

As Tammie glower'd, amazed 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.

Now Tam! O Tam! had thae been queans, A' plump and strappin' 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' guid blue hair, I wad hae gien them aff my hurdies, For ae blink o' the bonny burdies!

But wither'd beldams, auld and droll, Rigwoodie hags, wad spean a foal, Lowpin' and flingin' on a c.u.mmock, I wonder didna turn thy stomach.

But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie, "There was ae winsome wench and walie,"

That night enlisted in the core (Lang after kenn'd on Carrick sh.o.r.e; For mony a beast to dead she shot, And perish'd money a bonny boat, And shook baith meikle corn and bear, And kept the country-side in fear).

Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn, That, while a la.s.sie, she had worn, In longitude though sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie.

Ah! little kenn'd thy reverend grannie, That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches), Wad ever graced a dance o' witches!

But here my Muse her wing maun core, Sic flights are far beyond her power; To sing how Nannie lap and flang (A souple jade she was, and strang), And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd, And thought, his very een enriched.

Even Satan glower'd, and fidged 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 a' was dark: And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the h.e.l.lish legion sallied.

As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, When plundering herds a.s.sail their byke, As open p.u.s.s.ie'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' mony an eldritch screech and hollow.

Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'lt get thy fairin'!

In h.e.l.l 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 keystane of the brig; There at them thou thy tail may toss, A running stream they darena cross; But ere the keystane she could make, The fient a tail she had to shake!

For Nannie, far before the rest, Hard upon n.o.ble 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 caught 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: Whane'er to drink you are inclined, Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, Think! ye may buy the joys ower dear-- Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.

_Robert Burns._

THAT GENTLE MAN FROM BOSTON TOWN

AN IDYL OF OREGON

Two webfoot brothers loved a fair Young lady, rich and good to see; And oh, her black abundant hair!

And oh, her wondrous witchery!

Her father kept a cattle farm, These brothers kept her safe from harm:

From harm of cattle on the hill; From thick-necked bulls loud bellowing The livelong morning, loud and shrill, And lashing sides like anything; From roaring bulls that tossed the sand And pawed the lilies from the land.

There came a third young man. He came From far and famous Boston town.

He was not handsome, was not "game,"

But he could "cook a goose" as brown As any man that set foot on The sunlit sh.o.r.es of Oregon.

This Boston man he taught the school, Taught gentleness and love alway, Said love and kindness, as a rule, Would ultimately "make it pay."

He was so gentle, kind, that he Could make a noun and verb agree.

So when one day the brothers grew All jealous and did strip to fight, He gently stood between the two, And meekly told them 'twas not right.

"I have a higher, better plan,"

Outspake this gentle Boston man.

"My plan is this: Forget this fray About that lily hand of hers; Go take your guns and hunt all day High up yon lofty hill of firs, And while you hunt, my loving doves, Why, I will learn which one she loves."

The brothers sat the windy hill, Their hair shone yellow, like spun gold, Their rifles crossed their laps, but still They sat and sighed and shook with cold.

Their hearts lay bleeding far below; Above them gleamed white peaks of snow.

Their hounds lay couching, slim and neat; A spotted circle in the gra.s.s.

The valley lay beneath their feet; They heard the wide-winged eagles pa.s.s.

The eagles cleft the clouds above; Yet what could they but sigh and love?

"If I could die," the elder sighed, "My dear young brother here might wed."

"Oh, would to Heaven I had died!"

The younger sighed, with bended head.

Then each looked each full in the face And each sprang up and stood in place.

"If I could die,"--the elder spake,-- "Die by your hand, the world would say 'Twas accident;--and for her sake, Dear brother, be it so, I pray."

"Not that!" the younger n.o.bly said; Then tossed his gun and turned his head.

And fifty paces back he paced!

And as he paced he drew the ball; Then sudden stopped and wheeled and faced His brother to the death and fall!

Two shots rang wild upon the air!

But lo! the two stood harmless there!

An eagle poised high in the air; Far, far below the bellowing Of bullocks ceased, and everywhere Vast silence sat all questioning.

The spotted hounds ran circling round Their red, wet noses to the ground.

And now each brother came to know That each had drawn the deadly ball; And for that fair girl far below Had sought in vain to silent fall.

And then the two did gladly "shake,"

And thus the elder bravely spake:

"Now let us run right hastily And tell the kind schoolmaster all!

Yea! yea! and if she choose not me, But all on you her favors fall, This valiant scene, till all life ends, Dear brother, binds us best of friends."