Tam O’ Shanter (Poem by Robert Burns)

Tam O’ Shanter

A Tale

By Robert Burns

When chapman billies leave the street,

And drouthy neebors neebors meet,

As market-days are wearing late,

An’ folk begin to tak’ the gate;

While we sit bousing at the nappy,

An’ gettin’ fou 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 bonny lasses.)

O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise,

As ta’en thy ain wife Kate’s advice!

She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,

A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;

That frae November till October,

Ae market-day thou wasna sober;

That ilka melder, wi’ the miller,

Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;

That ev’ry naig was ca’d a shoe on,

The smith and thee gat roaring fou on;

That at the Lord’s house, ev’n on Sunday,

Thou drank wi’ Kirton Jean till Monday.

She prophesy’d, that late or soon,

Thou would be found deep drown’d in Doon;

Or catch’d wi’ warlocks in the mirk,

By Alloway’s auld haunted kirk.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,

To think how mony counsels sweet,

How mony lengthen’d sage advices,

The husband frae the wife despises!

But to our tale: — Ae market night,

Tam had got planted unco right;

Fast by an ingle bleezing finely,

Wi’ reaming swats, that drank divinely;

And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,

His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;

Tam lo’ed him like a vera brither;

They had been fou’ for weeks thegither!

The night drave on wi’ sangs an’ clatter;

And ay the ale was growing better:

The landlady and Tam grew gracious;

Wi’ favors secret, sweet, and precious;

The Souter tauld his queerest stories;

The landlord’s laugh was ready chorus: [1]

The storm without might rair and rustle — 

Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.

Care, mad to see a man sae happy,

E’en drown’d himself amang the nappy!

As bees flee hame wi’ lades o’ treasure,

The minutes wing’d their way wi’ pleasure:

Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,

O’er a’ the ills o’ life victorious.

But pleasures are like poppies spread,

You seize the flow’r, its bloom is shed;

Or like the snow falls in the river,

A moment white — then melts for ever;

Or like the borealis race,

That flit ere you can point their place;

Or like the rainbow’s lovely form

Evanishing amid the storm.

Nae man can tether time or tide;

The hour approaches Tam maun ride;

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

That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;

And sic a night he taks the road in

As ne’er poor sinner was abroad in.

The wind blew as ’twad blawn its last;

The rattling show’rs rose on the blast;

The speedy gleams the darkness swallow’d;

Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellow’d:

That night, a child might understand,

The de’il had business on his hand.

Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg,

A better never lifted leg,

Tam skelpit on thro’ dub and mire,

Despising wind, and rain, and fire;

Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet;

Whiles crooning o’er some auld Scots sonnet;

Whiles glow’ring round wi’ prudent cares,

Lest bogles catch him unawares;

Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,

Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. — 

By this time he was cross the foord,

Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor’d;

And past the birks and meikle stane,

Where drunken Charlie brak’s neck-bane;

And thro’ the whins, and by the cairn,

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 the thunders roll;

When, glimmering thro’ the groaning trees,

Kirk-Alloway seem’d in a bleeze;

Thro’ ilka bore the beams were glancing;

And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn!

What dangers thou canst make us scorn!

Wi’ tippenny, we fear nae evil;

Wi’ usquabae we’ll face the devil!

The swats sae ream’d in Tammie’s noddle,

Fair play, he car’d nae deils a boddle.

But Maggie stood right sair astonish’d,

’Till, by the heel and hand admonish’d,

She ventur’d forward on the light;

And wow! Tam saw an unco sight!

Warlocks and witches in a dance;

Nae cotillion brent new frae France,

But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,

Put life and mettle in their heels:

A winnock-bunker in the east,

There sat auld Nick, in shape o’ beast;

A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,

To gie them music was his charge;

He screw’d the pipes and gart them skirl,

Till roof and rafters a’ did dirl. — 

Coffins stood round, like open presses;

That shaw’d the dead in their last dresses;

And by some devilish cantrip slight

Each in its cauld hand held a light — 

By which heroic Tam was able

To note upon the haly table,

A murderer’s banes in gibbet airns;

Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen’d bairns;

A thief, new-cutted frae a rape,

Wi’ his last gasp his gab did gape;

Five tomahawks, wi’ bluid 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 o’ life bereft,

The gray hairs yet stack to the heft: [2]

Wi’ mair o’ horrible and awfu’,

Which ev’n to name would be unlawfu’.

As Tammie glowr’d, amaz’d, and curious,

The mirth and fun grew fast and furious:

The piper loud and louder blew;

The dancers quick and quicker flew;

They reel’d, they set, they cross’d, they cleekit,

’Till ilka carlin swat and reekit,

And coost her duddies to the wark,

And linket at it in her sark!

Now Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans

A’ plump and strapping, in their teens;

Their sarks, instead o’ creeshie flannen,

Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linen,

Thir breeks o’ mine, my only pair,

That ance were plush, o’ guid blue hair,

I wad hae gi’en them off my hurdies,

For ae blink o’ the bonnie burdies!

But wither’d beldams, auld and droll,

Rigwoodie hags, wad spean a foal,

Lowping an’ flinging on a cummock,

I wonder didna turn thy stomach.

But Tam kenn’d what was what fu’ brawlie,

There was a winsome wench and walie,

That night enlisted in the core,

(Lang after kenn’d on Carrick shore;

For mony a beast to dead she shot,

And perish’d mony a bonnie boat,

And shook baith meikle corn and bear,

And kept the country-side in fear.)

Her cutty sark, o’ Paisley harn,

That, while a lassie, she had worn,

In longitude tho’ sorely scanty,

It was her best, and she was vauntie — 

Ah! little kenn’d the reverend grannie,

That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,

Wi’ twa pund Scots (’twas a’ her riches),

Wad ever grac’d a dance of witches!

But here my muse her wing maun cour;

Sic flights are far beyond her pow’r;

To sing how Nannie lap and flang,

(A souple jade she was and strung,)

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’d and blew wi’ might and main:

’Till first ae caper, syne anither,

Tam tint his reason a’ thegither,

And roars out, “Weel 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 wi’ angry fyke,

When plundering herds assail their byke;

As open pussie’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,

Wi’ mony an eldritch screech and hollow.

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 [3] of 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 tail she had to shake!

For Nannie, far before the rest,

Hard upon noble Maggie prest,

And flew at Tam wi’ furious ettle;

But little wist she Maggie’s mettle — 

Ae spring brought off her master hale,

But left behind her ain gray tail:

The carlin claught 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 run in your mind,

Think! ye may buy the joys o’er dear — 

Remember Tam O’ Shanter’s mare.

FOOTNOTES:
[1] VARIATION.
The cricket raised its cheering cry,
The kitten chas’d its tail in joy.
[2] VARIATION.
Three lawyers’ tongues turn’d inside out,
Wi’ lies seem’d like a beggar’s clout;
And priests’ hearts rotten black as muck,
Lay stinking vile, in every neuk.
[3] It is a well-known fact that witches, or any evil spirits, have no power to follow a poor wight any further than the middle of the next running stream. It may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted traveller, that when he falls in with bogles, whatever danger there may be in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turning back.

Poem Analysis:

Robert Burns’s Tam O’ Shanter (1790) is one of the poet’s most celebrated narrative poems, blending humor, moral reflection, Scottish folklore, and vivid storytelling. Written in Scots dialect with Burns’s characteristic mix of wit and pathos, the poem tells the story of Tam, a farmer who, after a night of heavy drinking, encounters a supernatural gathering of witches and warlocks near Alloway Kirk. Although comic and entertaining, the poem doubles as a cautionary tale, warning against overindulgence and the dangers of ignoring good advice — particularly the admonitions of a wise and long-suffering wife.

Overview and Structure

The poem is composed in rhyming couplets, predominantly written in iambic tetrameter, which gives it a lively and rhythmic energy. The Scots dialect enriches the local flavor, while Burns’s narrative voice — alternately humorous, moralizing, and dramatic — carries the tale forward with a conversational, almost bardic tone. The narrative is structured in a linear fashion, beginning with a general observation about human folly, moving into Tam’s drunken adventure, climaxing with the witches’ chase, and concluding with a moral lesson.

Introduction and Moral Frame

The opening lines introduce a universal truth: men often ignore the wise counsel of their wives. Burns humorously sets the stage by painting a vivid image of domestic discord — Tam’s wife, Kate, "nursing her wrath to keep it warm," as Tam lingers at the pub, enjoying ale and fellowship with his friend Souter Johnny. The tone is playful, suggesting both sympathy for Tam and a wry acknowledgment of his faults.

Tam’s Night of Drinking

The heart of Tam’s character is revealed as a jovial, carefree man who drowns his cares in alcohol. Burns, with his characteristic humor, describes how Tam is "o’er a’ the ills o’ life victorious" when intoxicated, only to underscore the fleeting nature of pleasure with one of the poem’s most quoted passages:

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.

This meditation on the transience of joy shifts the tone from comic to philosophical, creating a bridge to the darker supernatural elements of the narrative.

The Ride Through the Storm

When Tam finally sets off for home on his mare, Meg, he rides through a tempestuous night. The storm is described in vivid, cinematic detail, with rattling showers, lightning, and ominous thunder — suggesting that Tam’s journey will be neither easy nor ordinary. Burns evokes the sense that the devil himself is abroad that night.

The Haunted Kirk of Alloway

Tam comes upon Alloway Kirk, ablaze with eerie light. Inside, witches and warlocks are dancing wildly to music played by the devil himself, "auld Nick," who takes the shape of a black beast. Burns’s description of the grotesque scene is both comic and horrifying, with coffins standing like open wardrobes displaying the dead in their burial clothes, and grisly objects such as murder weapons and bones scattered about.

Among the hags, Tam’s eye is caught by "Cutty-sark" (a young witch named Nannie wearing a short underskirt). Her youthful vigor and energy captivate Tam so much that he forgets his danger and shouts out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!" — revealing his presence.

The Chase

Tam’s outcry triggers chaos, and the witches give chase. Knowing that witches cannot cross running water, Tam urges Meg to race toward the keystone of the bridge. In a dramatic climax, Meg reaches safety just as Nannie grabs her tail, which is torn off — a detail that adds both humor and tension to the conclusion.

Moral Conclusion

The poem closes with a moral addressed to the audience: indulgence in drink and lust, like Tam’s admiration for "cutty-sarks," can lead to disaster. Burns humorously warns men to think twice before buying their pleasures "o’er dear," using the image of Tam’s tailless mare as a lasting symbol of folly.

Themes

1. Folly and Temptation: At its core, Tam O’ Shanter is a humorous cautionary tale about the consequences of overindulgence in drink and worldly pleasures. Tam’s failure to heed his wife’s advice leads him into a terrifying and nearly fatal adventure.
2. The Conflict Between Domesticity and Pleasure: Burns contrasts the warmth and camaraderie of the tavern with the stern domesticity represented by Kate. The poem subtly suggests that Tam’s escapades are not merely reckless but also a rebellion against the constraints of rural, marital life.
3. The Supernatural and Scottish Folklore: Witches, warlocks, ghosts, and the devil himself populate the poem’s central episode. Burns draws heavily on Scottish folklore, particularly the belief that evil spirits cannot cross running water — a detail that becomes crucial to Tam’s escape.
4. The Transience of Life and Pleasure: The famous "poppies" stanza reflects on the fleeting nature of joy and the inevitability of change. Burns’s tone shifts from humorous to philosophical, suggesting that even the most intoxicating moments of life are ephemeral.
5. Humor and Moralism: While the poem serves as a warning, it does so through humor and vivid imagery rather than stern preaching. Burns’s tone is playful, even when describing grisly or supernatural scenes, making the moral lesson all the more memorable.

Language and Style

Burns’s use of the Scots dialect gives the poem its authentic rural flavor. Phrases like "drouthy neebors" (thirsty neighbors) and "skelpit on thro’ dub and mire" (hurried through mud and mire) immerse readers in the cultural and linguistic world of 18th-century Scotland.

The narrative voice shifts seamlessly between dramatic storytelling, humorous commentary, and lyrical reflection. Burns’s vivid imagery — from the raucous tavern scenes to the haunting, fiery kirk — demonstrates his mastery of descriptive verse. His use of similes and metaphors, such as comparing pleasures to fleeting natural phenomena, adds depth to the poem’s philosophical undertones.

Symbolism

• Maggie the Mare: Maggie symbolizes loyalty and perseverance, ultimately saving Tam from the consequences of his folly — though at the cost of her tail. She represents the unsung heroism of humble companions.
• The Bridge and Running Water: The bridge serves as a liminal space between the mortal world and supernatural danger. The running water symbolizes a boundary that evil cannot cross, reinforcing traditional folk beliefs.
• Cutty-sark: Nannie, the young witch in a short shift, is both a literal character and a symbol of seductive temptation — the kind that blinds men to reason.

Tam O’ Shanter remains one of Robert Burns’s most enduring works because of its brilliant combination of humor, suspense, folklore, and moral wisdom. It captures the voice of rural Scotland while exploring universal human themes — indulgence, temptation, and the thin line between joy and danger.

The poem’s rich imagery, memorable characters, and dynamic narrative structure make it both a cautionary tale and a celebration of storytelling itself. Burns leaves readers with a lesson wrapped in wit and wonder: even the most ordinary night of drinking can lead to extraordinary — and terrifying — adventures.