"Of brownyis and of bogilis full is this buke."
--GAWIN DOUGLAS.

When chapman billies leave the street, {147a}
And drouthy neibors neibors meet, {147b}
As market days are wearin' late,
And folk begin to tak the gate; {147h}
While we sit bousing at the nappy,
And gettin' fou and unco' happy, {147c}
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles, {147d}
That lie between us and our hame,
Whare 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 bonny lasses.)

O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise
As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!
She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum, {147e}
A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum; {147f}
That frae November till October,
Ae market day thou wasna sober;
That ilka melder, wi' the miller {147g} {147i}
Thou sat as lang as thou hadst siller;
That every naig was ca'd a shoe on,