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AE FOND KISS, AND THEN WE SEVER (1791)

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae farewell, and then for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy:
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,

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Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!

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Ae farewell, alas, for ever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

TAM O'SHANTER

(First published 1791)

"Of Brownyis and of Bogillis full is this Buke." GAWIN DOUGLAS.

When chapman billies1 leave the street,
And drouthy2 neibors, neibors meet;
As market days are wearing late,
And folk begin to tak the gate,3
While we sit bousing at the nappy,*
An' getting fous and unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,"
The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

This truth fand honest TAM o' SHANTER,
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter:
(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonie lasses).

O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise,
As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!
She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum;8
A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;"
That frae November till October,

Ae market-day thou wasna sober;

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That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane,

That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;

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That ilka melder 10 wi' the Miller,

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And sic a night he taks the road in,
As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.

The wind blew as 't wad blawn its last;
The rattling showers rose on the blast;
The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd; 75
Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellow'd:
That night, a child might understand,
The deil had business on his hand.
Weel-mounted on his gray mare Meg,

A better never lifted leg,

Tam skelpit 20 on thro' dub21 and mire,
Despising wind, and rain, and fire;

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Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet, Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet, Whiles glow'rin round wi' prudent cares,

Lest bogles22 catch him unawares;

Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,

Where ghaists and houlets23 nightly cry.

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By this time he was cross the ford, Where in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;24 90 And past the birks25 and meikle stane, Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane; And thro' the whins, 28 and by the cairn,27 Where hunters fand the murder'd bairn; And near the thorn, aboon the well, Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel'. Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars thro' the woods, The lightnings flash from pole to pole, Near and more near the thunders roll, When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze, Thro' ilka bore28 the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

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20 Dashed, hurried. 22 Ghosts, hobgoblins. 23 Owls. 25 Birches

24 Was smothered.

26 Furze. 27 A heap of stones. 23 Hole, opening.

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Lang after ken'd on Carrick shore; (For mony a beast to dead she shot, And perish'd mony a bonie boat,

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And shook baith meikle corn and bear,"
And kept the country-side in fear);
Her cutty sark,55 o' Paisley harn, 50
That while a lassie she had worn,
In longitude tho' sorely scanty,
It was her best, and she was vauntie.57
Ah! little ken'd thy reverend grannie,
That sark she coft58 for her wee Nannie,
Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches),
Wad ever grac'd a dance o' witches!

But here my Muse her wing maun cour,
Sic flights are far beyond her power;
To sing how Nannie lap and flang,
(A souple jade she was and strang),
And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd,
And thought his very een enrich'd:
Even Satan glowr'd and fidg'd fu' fain,
And hotch'd59 and blew wi' might and main:
Till first ae caper, synes anither,

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Twa span-lang, wee, unchristened bairns;
A thief, new-cutted frae a rape,
Wi' his last gasp his gab 40 did gape;
Five tomahawks, wi' blude red-rusted;
Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted;
A garter which a babe had strangled:
A knife, a father's throat had mangled,
Whom his ain son of life bereft,
The gray-hairs yet stack to the heft;
Wi' mair of horrible and awfu',

Tam tinto his reason a' thegither,

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And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!" And in an instant all was dark:

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Which even to name wad be unlawfu'.

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When, pop! she starts before their nose;

As eager runs the market-crowd,

When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; So Maggie runs, the witches follow,

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They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, 41

Till ilka carlin swat and reekit,

And coost her duddies42 to the wark,
And linket 43 at it in her sark!44

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Wi' mony an eldritch skreich65 and hollow. 200

Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin! In hell they 'll roast thee like a herrin! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin! Kate soon will be a woefu' woman! Now, do thy speedy-utmost, Meg, And win the key-stane o' the brig; There, at them thou thy tail may toss, A running stream they darena cross! But ere the key-stane she could make, The fient a tailes she had to shake! For Nannie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble Maggie prest,

so Perhaps wrinkled, withered. Staff, a witch's stick.

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And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;69
But little wist she Maggie's mettle!
Ae spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind her ain gray tail:
The carling claught70 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, take heed:
Whene'er to Drink you are inclin'd,
Or Cutty-sarks rin in your mind,
Think ye may buy the joys o'er dear;
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.

AFTON WATER

(1791)

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There Simmer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last Farewell

O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,2 How rich the hawthorn's blossom,

As underneath their fragrant shade,

I clasp'd her to my bosom!
The golden Hours on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my Dearie;
For dear to me, as light and life,
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;
But oh! fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my Flower sae early!
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!

And clos'd for aye, the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly!

And mouldering now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

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