Alloway's Old Church, Bridge over the River Doon, Cutty Sark, Nannie Dee
Tam o’Shanter Introduction
In 1790 Scottish poet Robert Burns completed the classic and definitive tale about Halloween,
Tam o’Shanter. Tam is a hard drinking Scottish farmer who rides home in a raging thunderstorm after midnight on Halloween, encounters an unearthly gathering of witches and warlocks in a ruined church, and then has to flee for his life. Tam’s fate hinges on crossing the bridge over the River Doon (Brig o’ Doon) because, according to the superstitions of the time, witches and warlocks could not pursue a victim across a stream of running water. The Broadway musical,
Brigadoon, takes its name from the famous bridge in
Tam o’Shanter. Likewise, the gorgeous British tea clipper,
Cutty-Sark (on display in Greenwich, England), took its name from the poem, and the ship’s figurehead,
Nannie, is the name of the witch in the tale who gives Tam so much trouble.
Cutty sark in the Scots language literally means “short skirt”. A
sark was an undergarment similar to a slip worn by women of the time, sometimes as sleep-ware.
The place names are real. Carrick is the coastal region in southwestern Scotland that contains the market town Ayr, the smaller town of Alloway (just south of Ayr), Kirk Alloway (the still standing ruined old church of Alloway, already a ruin in Burns’ time), and the River Doon with it’s famous bridge. Robert Burns was born in Alloway.
The characters are fictional:
Tam (the farmer),
Kate, (his long suffering wife),
Maggie or
Meg (Tam’s trusty grey mare),
Nannie (a witch), and
Old Nick (the Devil himself playing the bagpipes).
Tam o’Shanter was originally written in a mix of Scots and English. I did this translation into modern English with the goal of maintaining (as much as possible) Burns’ original wording, rhyming, rhythm, assonance, and alliteration. I had to settle for near rhymes in some cases because of the way the languages have evolved. The original text and a different English translation can be found at:
www.robertburnsfederation.com/poems/translations/446.htmFollowing are a few words that have fallen out of common usage, don’t translate well, and may need defining. The word
smo’red means smothered (from the Scots
smoor’d).
Bairn is another word for child.
John Barleycorn is a catch-all term for liquor.
Tuppenny is cheap, weak ale.
Cotillions, hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and
reels are all types of music and dance from the period.
Seventeen-hundred linen was a manufacturer’s term for very fine linen at the time.
Bere is another word for barley. A
fairing is a prize from a fair. The word
nappy was removed entirely because it has evolved into an insensitive term in some areas outside of Scotland (where it used to mean strong ale). And I did NOT translate
cutty sark into "short skirt". Some terms transcend the language.
I heard
Tam o’Shanter periodically from my relatives with Scottish heritage when I was younger last century, but always in Scots which was impenetrable to me at the time. It’s nice to finally understand what it’s all about. This is a fun and classic tale. Enjoy!
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Tam o’Shanter by Robert Burns (1790)
When peddler fellows leave the street,
And thirsty neighbors, neighbors meet;
As market days are wearing late,
And folk begin to take the gate,
While we sit boozing at ales heady,
And getting drunk and very happy,
We think not on the long Scots’ miles,
The marshes, waters, slops, and stiles,
That lie between us and our home,
Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.
This truth found honest Tam O’Shanter
As he, from Ayr, one night did canter.
(Old Ayr, which not a town surpasses
For honest men and bonnie lasses.)
O Tam! Had you but been so wise,
As taken your own wife Kate’s advice!
She told you well you are a slacker -
A blithering, blustering, drunken blabber.
That from November till October,
Not one market-day you were sober,
That every milling, with the miller,
You sat as long as you had silver,
That every day a nag was shoed on,
The smith and you got roaring drunk on,
That at the Lord’s house, even on Sunday,
You drank with Kirkton Jean till Monday.
She prophesied that late or soon,
You would be found deep drowned in Doon.
Or caught by warlocks in the murk,
By Alloway’s old haunted church.
Ah, gentle dames! It makes me weep,
To think how many counsels sweet,
How many lengthened, sage advices,
The husband from the wife despises!
But to our tale: One market-night,
Tam had got planted perfectly right;
Fast by a fire, blazing finely,
With frothing ales, that drank divinely.
And at his elbow, Cobbler Johnny,
His ancient, trusty, drinking crony.
Tam loved him like a very brother;
They had been drunk for weeks together!
The night drove on with songs and clatter;
And aye, the ale was growing better.
The landlady and Tam grew gracious,
With favors secret, sweet, and precious.
The Cobbler told his queerest stories;
The landlord’s laugh was ready chorus.
The storm without might roar and rustle;
Tam did not mind the storm a whistle.
Care, mad to see a man so hale,
Even drowned himself among the ale!
As bees flee home with loads of treasure,
The minutes winged their way with pleasure.
Kings may be blessed, but Tam was glorious;
Over all the ills of life victorious.
But pleasures are like poppies spread;
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed.
Or like the snow falls in the river;
A moment white, then melts forever.
Or like the borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place.
Or like the rainbow’s lovely form,
Evanishing amid the storm.
No man can tether time nor tide;
The hour approaches Tam must ride.
That hour, of night’s black arch, the keystone;
That dreary hour he mounts his beast on.
And such a night he takes the road in,
As never poor sinner was abroad in.
The wind blew as if blowing its last;
The rattling showers rose on the blast.
The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed;
Loud, deep, and long, the thunder bellowed.
That night a child might understand,
The Devil had business on his hand.
Well mounted on his grey mare, Meg;
A better never lifted leg.
Tam drove on through mud and mire,
Despising wind and rain and fire;
While holding fast his good blue bonnet,
While crooning over some old Scots sonnet,
While looking round with prudent cares,
Lest bogles catch him unawares.
Alloway’s Church was drawing nigh,
Where ghosts and owlets nightly cry.
By this time he was ‘cross the ford,
Where, in the snow, the peddler smo’red.
And past the birches and giant stone,
Where drunken Charlie broke his neck bone.
And through the gorse, and by the cairn,
Where hunters found the murdered bairn.
And near the thorn, above the well,
Where Mungo’s mother hanged herself.
Before him, Doon pours all his floods;
The doubling storm roars through the woods.
The lightnings flash from pole to pole;
Near and more near the thunders roll.
When, glimmering through the groaning trees,
Alloway’s Church seemed in a blaze.
Through every breach the beams were glancing,
And loud resounded mirth and dancing.
Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!
What dangers you can make us scorn!
With Tuppenny, we fear no evil;
With whisky, we’ll face the Devil!
The ales so frothed in Tammie’s noggin,
Fair play! He cared not devils a farthin’.
But Maggie stood, right sore astonished,
Till by the heel and hand admonished,
She ventured forward on the light,
And wow! Tam saw a wondrous sight!
Warlocks and witches in a dance;
No cotillion, brand-new from France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,
Put life and mettle in their heels.
A window bunker in the east,
There sat Old Nick in shape of beast.
A hairy hound, black, grim, and large;
To give them music was his charge.
He blew the pipes and made them scream,
Till roof and rafters all did ring.
Coffins stood round, like open presses,
That showed the Dead in their last dresses;
And by some devilish magic sleight,
Each in its cold hand held a light.
By which heroic Tam was able,
To note upon the holy table:
A murderer’s bones in gibbet-chains,
Two nine-inch, wee, unchristened babes.
A thief, new-cutted from a rope;
With his last gasp his gab did gape.
Five tomahawks, with blood red-rusted,
Five scimitars, with murder crusted.
A garter, which a babe had strangled;
A knife, a father’s throat had mangled.
Whom his own son, of life bereft;
The grey hairs yet stuck to the haft.
With more so horrible and awful,
Even to name would be unlawful.
As Tammie gazed, amazed, and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.
The piper loud and louder blew,
The dancers quick and quicker flew.
They reeled, they set, they crossed, they linked,
Till every carlin sweated and reeked,
And shed her dresses to the work,
And frolicked at it in her sark!
Now Tam, O Tam! Had they been queens,
All plump and strapping in their teens,
Their sarks, instead of greasy flannen,
Been snow-white seventeen-hundred linen!
These pants of mine, my only pair,
That once were plush, of good blue hair,
I would have given them off my booties,
For one blink of the bonnie beauties!
But withered beldams, old and droll,
Thin warty hags t’would wean a foal,
Springing and flinging on crooked stick,
I wonder did not turn your stomach!
But Tam knew what was what full well.
There was one winsome wench and swell,
That night enlisted in the core,
Long after known on Carrick shore.
(For many a beast to dead she shot,
And perished many a bonnie boat,
And wrecked both plenty corn and bere,
and kept the countryside in fear.)
Her cutty-sark, of Paisley yarn,
That while a lassie she had worn,
In longitude though sorely scanty,
It was her best, and she was flaunty.
Ah! Little knew your reverend grannie,
That sark she bought for her wee Nannie,
With two-pound Scots (‘twas all her riches),
Would ever grace a dance of witches!
But here my Muse her wing must cower;
Such flights are far beyond her power.
To sing how Nannie leaped and sprang,
(A supple jade she was, and strong).
And how Tam stood, like one bewitched,
And thought his very being enriched.
Even Satan glared and fidged full fain,
And heaved and blew with might and main.
Till first one caper, then another,
Tam lost his reason altogether,
And roars out: “Well done, Cutty-sark!”
And in an instant, all was dark.
And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
When out the hellish legion sallied.
As bees bizz out with angry drive,
When plundering herds assail their hive;
As wild rabbit’s mortal foes,
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,
With many an eldritch screech and holler.
Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! You’ll get your fairing!
In Hell, they’ll roast you like a herring!
In vain your Kate awaits your coming!
Kate soon will be a woeful woman!
Now do your speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the keystone of the bridge;
There, at them, you your tail may toss,
A running stream they dare not cross!
But ere the keystone she could make,
The fiend, a tail she had to shake.
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie pressed.
And flew at Tam with furious fettle,
But little knew she Maggie’s mettle!
One spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind her own grey tail.
The carlin caught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.
Now, who this tale of truth shall read,
Each man and mother’s son take heed!
Whenever to drink you are inclined,
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
Think! You may buy the joys too dear;
Remember Tam O’ Shanter’s mare.
Now it makes much more sense to me.
. Someone mentioned having bad koala on getting some dragon, so the good/bad koala forces personified occurred to me. 
