 | The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie |  |
TAM O' THE LIN.
Tam o' the Lin was fu' o' pride,
And his weapon he girt to his valorous side,
A scabbard o' leather wi' deil-haet within,—
“Attack me wha daur!” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
And his weapon he girt to his valorous side,
A scabbard o' leather wi' deil-haet within,—
“Attack me wha daur!” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
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Tam o' the Lin he bought a mear,
She cost him five shilling, she was na' dear,
Her back stuck up and her sides fell in,—
“A fiery yaud,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
She cost him five shilling, she was na' dear,
Her back stuck up and her sides fell in,—
“A fiery yaud,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
Tam o' the Lin he courted a may,
She stared at him sourly and said him nay,
But he stroked down his jerkin and cock'd up his chin,—
“She aims at a laird then,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
She stared at him sourly and said him nay,
But he stroked down his jerkin and cock'd up his chin,—
“She aims at a laird then,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
Tam o' the Lin he gaed to the fair,
Yet he look'd wi' disdain on the chapman's ware,
Then chuck'd out a saxpence, the saxpence was tin,—
“There's coin for the fiddlers,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
Yet he look'd wi' disdain on the chapman's ware,
Then chuck'd out a saxpence, the saxpence was tin,—
“There's coin for the fiddlers,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
Tam o' the Lin wad show his lare,
And he scann'd o'er the book wi' a wiselike stare,
He mutter'd confusedly but didna begin,—
“This is Dominie's business,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
And he scann'd o'er the book wi' a wiselike stare,
He mutter'd confusedly but didna begin,—
“This is Dominie's business,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
Tam o' the Lin had a cow wi' ae horn,
That liket to feed on his neighbour's corn,
The stanes he threw at her fell short o' her skin,—
“She's a lucky auld reiver,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
That liket to feed on his neighbour's corn,
The stanes he threw at her fell short o' her skin,—
“She's a lucky auld reiver,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
Tam o' the Lin he married a wife,
And she was the torment, the plague o' his life;
She lays sae about her, and makes sic a din,—
“She frightens the bailie,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
And she was the torment, the plague o' his life;
She lays sae about her, and makes sic a din,—
“She frightens the bailie,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
Tam o' the Lin grew dowie and douce,
And he sat on a stane at the end o' his house:
What ails thee, auld chield? he looks haggard and thin,—
“I'm no vera cheery,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
And he sat on a stane at the end o' his house:
What ails thee, auld chield? he looks haggard and thin,—
“I'm no vera cheery,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
Tam o' the Lin lay down to die,
And his friends whisper'd softly and woefully,
We'll buy you some masses to scour away sin,—
“And drink at my latewake,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
And his friends whisper'd softly and woefully,
We'll buy you some masses to scour away sin,—
“And drink at my latewake,” quo' Tam o' the Lin.
| The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie | |