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Trig her houſe, and oh! to buſk aye
Ilk ſweet bairn was a' her pride!———
But at this time NEWS and WHISKY
Sprang nae up at ilk road-ſide.
Luckleſs was the hour whan Willie,
Hame returning frae the fair,
Ow'r-took Tam a neebour billie,
Six miles frae their hame and mair.
Simmer's heat had loſt its fury;
Calmly ſmil'd the fober een;
Laſſes on the bleachfield hurry
Skelping bare-fit owre the green;
Labour rang wi' laugh and clatter,
Canty Hairst was juſt begun,
And on mountain, tree and water
Glinted ſaft. the ſettin Sun.
Will and Tam wi' hearts a' lowpin
Mark'd the hale, but cou'd nae bide
Far frae hame, nae time for ſtoppin;
Baith wiſh'd for their ain fire-ſide.
On they travell’d, warm and drouthy,
Cracking owre the news in town,
The mair they crack'd, the mair ilk youth aye
Pray'd for drink to waſh news down.
Fortune wha but feldom liftens
To poor Merit's modeft pray’r;
And on fools pours needleſs bleſſings,
Harken'd to our drouthy pair.
