5
Whare Mungo's mither hang'd herſel',
Before him Doon pours all ⟨his⟩ floods:
The doubling storm roars thro' the woods,
The lightning flash from pole to pole;
Near and more near the thunders roll:
Whan glimmering the the groaning trees
Kirk Aloway ſeemd in a blaze;
Thro' ilka bore the beams are glancing,
And loud reegunded mirth and dancing.
Inspiring bauld John Barleycorn,
What danger thou canst mak us scorn;
Wi' tipenny, we fear nae evil;
Wi' Usquebae, we'll face the Devil!
The swats ſae rearm'd in Tamie's noddle,
Fair play he car'd na deil's a boddle:
But Meggy strod right feir astonish'd
Till, by the heel and hand admoniſh'd.
She ventur'd forward to the light
And vow! Tam ſaw ad unco sighht!
Warlocks and wiatches in a dance,
Nae cotilion, brent new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeye and reels,
Put life and mettle in their heels—
At winnock bunker in the east,
There sat auld Nick in shape o' beast
A touzie tyke, black, grim and large,
To gie them music was his charge,
He screw'd his pipes, and gart them skirl,
Til roof and rafters a' did dirl—
Coffins stood round like open preſſes;
That slew'd the dead in their last dreſſes,
And by ſome devilish catntip slight
Each in his cauld hand held a light—
By which heroic Fam was able
To note upon the haly table,
