6
Hout, quo Tam, what's a' the hurry?
Hame's now scarce a mile of gate--
Come, sit down, Jean winna wearie:
Hout, I'm sure it's no sae late
Will owrecome wi' Tam's oration
Baith fell to and ate their fill;
Tam, quo Will, in mere discretion,
We maun hae the widow's gill.
After ae gill cam anither--
Meg sat cracking 'tween thein twa;
Bang cam in Mat Smith and's brither,
Geordie Brown and Sandie Shaw.
Neebours wha ne'er thought to meet here,
Now sat down wi' double glee,
Ilk gill aye grew sweet and sweeter,
Will gat hame 'tween twa and three.
Jean, puir thing, had lang been greeting:
Will, niest morning blamed Tam Lowes,
But ere lang an owkly meeting
Was set up at Maggie Howe's.
Maist things hae a sma beginning,
But wha kens how things will end?
Owkly clubs are ne great sinning,
Gin folk hae enough to spend.
But nae man of sober thinking
E'er will say that things can thrive,
If there's spent in owkly drinking
What keeps wife and weans alive.
