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Alloway's auld haunted kirk.
Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,
To think how many counsels sweet,
How many lengthen'd sage advices,
The husband frae the wife-despises
But to our tale! Ae market night
Tamhad got planted unco right
Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely
Wi'reaming swats that drink divinely,
And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;
Tam lo'ed him like a very brither;
They had been fou for weeks thegither
The night drave on wi' songs and clatter,
And aye the ale was growing better:
The landlady and Tam grew gracious,
wi'favours, secret, sweet, and precious:
The Souter tauld his queerest stories;
The landlord's laugh was ready chorus;
The storm without might rair and rustle.
Tam did not mind the storm a whistle.
Care, mad to see a man so happy to:
E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy.
As bees flee bane wir lades o' treasure,
The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er a' the ills o 'life victorious!
But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
One moment white-then melts for ever;
Or like the borealis race,
That flit e'er you can point their place,
Or like the rainbow's lovely form,