But ere the key-stane she could make, The fient a tail she had to shake! Ae spring brought off her master hale, But left behind her ain gray 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, tak heed; Whene'er to drink you are inclined, Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear, Remember Tam O'Shanter's mare. BURNS. THE WITCH OF FIFE. "WHERE have ye been, ye ill wo man, These three lang nights frae hame? What gars the sweat drap frae yer brow, Like drops o' the saut sea-faem? "It fears me muckle ye have seen Where the gray cock never crew. "But the spell may crack, and the bridle break, Then sharp yer word will be; Ye had better sleep in yer bed at hame, Wi yer dear little bairns and me." "Sit dune, sit dune, my leal auld man, Sit dune, and listen to me; I'll gar the hair stand on yer crown, And the cauld sweat blind yer e'e. "But tell nae words, my gude auld man, Tell never a word again; We bored the breast of the bursting swale, Or fluffed in the floating faem. "And when to the Norroway shore we wan, We mounted our steeds of the wind, And we splashed the floode, and we darnit the wood, And we left the shore behind. "Fleet is the roe on the green Lommond, And swift is the couryng grew; The rein-deer dun can eithly run, When the hounds and the horns pursue. "But neither the roe, nor the reindeer dun. The hind nor the couryng grew, Could fly o'er mountain, moor, and dale, As our braw steeds they flew. "The dales were deep, and the Doffrins steep, And we rose to the skies ee-bree: White, white was our road that was never trode, O'er the snows of eternity. "And when we came to the Lapland lone, The fairies were all in array, For all the genii of the north Were keeping their holiday. "The warlock men and the weird women, And the fays of the wood and the steep, And the phantom hunters all were there, And the mermaids of the deep. "And they washed us all with the witch-water, Distilled frae the moorland dew, Till our beauty bloomed like the Lapland rose, That wild in the foreste grew.". "Ye lee, ye lee, ye ill woman, Sae loud as I hear ye lee! For the worst-faured wyfe on the shores of Fyfe Is comely compared wi' thee." |