Page:Beauties of Burn's poems.pdf/92

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They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit,
Till ilka carlin swat and reekit,
And koost her duddies to the wark,
And linkit at it in her sark!

Now Tam, O Tam! had thae been queens,
A' plump and strappin in their teens,
Their sarks, instead o' creechie flannen,
Been snaw-white se'enteen hunder linen,
Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair,
That ance were plush, o'gude blue hair,
I wad hae gi'en them aff my hurdies,
For ae blink o' the bonny burdies!

But wither'd beldams, auld and droll,
Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal;
Louping and flinging on a crummock,
I wonder't didna turn my stomach.

But Tam kend what was what fu' brawlie,
There was ae winsome wench and walie,
That night enlisted in the core,
Lang after kend on Carrick-shore:
For monie a beast to dead she shot,
And perish'd monie a bonnie 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' torely 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 o'er hae grac'd a dance o' witches