How mony hardships ne'er decreed,
That guilt frae justice aft has dree'd,
The precious life no ta'en awa
That crime aft forfeits to the law,
Nor bleeding hearts sae aft bewail'd
That life whar fair example fail'd,
Had but its course frae stain been free,
And like my Tam's for honesty.
At e'en he prowl'd baith house an' barn,
Ilk e'e red glancin' like a starn,
Wad every corner keen explore
Whar he could find a hole or bore;
Wi' snout erect snuff up the air,
As if he smelt his object there;
Down ilka paw sae saftly set,
As wadna scaith'd a spider's net;
Syne whan the mice began to stir,
Squat on the floor he ceas'd to purr,
An' caum, as he had been asleep,
Saw them frae out their hidins peep;
Then neither age nor sex he spar'd,
But springing, like the furious pard,
Snap gaed his jaw, an' in a breath
Crush'd some poor hapless wretch to death.
By Egypt's seggy Nile, they say,
The crocodile greets o'er his prey,
As he the heifer laith'd to kill,
An' scrupl'd guiltless bluid to spill,
Or sair beshrew'd the ruthless deed
Wad gar the panting victim bleed,
Sae wi' his paw saft on the floor
Tam turn'd the quiv'rin' mousie o'er,
As he'd been fond to ascertain
If the poor brute wad live again,
Till, tir'd his time to toy away,
At once he swallow'd down his
For mony a year he watch'd my barn, An' sav'd me mony o' sack o' corn, And in the house sae weel behav'd
mony a sonsy kebbuck sav'd;
Nae wonder then that I wad dawt
My bonny, eident, wordy cat;
Gie him ay routh o' simple fare,
An' whiles some tidbit I could spare.
What comfort aft the servant tynes,
Whase thriftless hand its task declines ?
What comfort always he enjoys
Wha still his every care employs
His daily duty ne'er to sham,
An' needs nae lesson frae my Tam?
He'll to his master ever be
Faithfu' as Tam was ay to me.
Tho' a full tide o' noble bluid
Pour'd thro' his veins its crimson fluid:
Tho' he a tyger's fury knew
Whane'er his game he had in view,
Yet, quait, aside the fire himlane,
Was harmless as the soukin' wean;
Wi' a' the bairns he was a pet,
An' sad an' sair they mourn him yet.
He ne'er wad wi' his neighbour squabble,
Nor herdit wi' the common rabble;
Till ance arriv'd at hoary age,
He hirsl'd quaitly off the stage.
Gang, reader! question weel your heart
If ye hae acted sic a part;
If ye've done mony a wordy deed,
Will saint mem❜ry your
If time wi' you be weel employ'd,
Or left a useless, dreary void;
If, guiding weel what heaven has lent,
Ye're in your station ay content,
An', to your duty ever just,
Discharge with industry your trust:
If this may o' your youth be tauld,
How sweet the thought o't whan yeʼre auld !
Ilk hour ye spend tak care to see
"Twill bear your retrospective e'e;
Keep frae dishonesty an' strife,
An' close, like Tam, a blameless life.
'Tis now nine short Moon, since, by Koonah's sweet river,
Fair Engleese first woo simple Maid:
O such word as he speaked forget shall me never; Nor how would he sigh as he said,
"O, Neekah! sweet Neekah ! me love you so dearly, That Engleese will die for your sake;
De white man no never look happy nor cheerly,
Den me pity poor white man, because him so saying;
For Neekah no cruel can be:
In mine Palm Hut so peaceful, so happy we staying:
Me love white man, and white man love me.
Me pull de ripe Bread Fruit, and catch de best fishes:
Sweet toil, when it done for Engleese!
Me watch ev'ry look of his eye for his wishes;
And O! how me happy, when please!
By Koonali's green bank, where de Plantain's broad
O'ershade us, how happy we be!
No Fader, no Friend, as de white man, such Lover:
No Moder so dear be to me.
In his arms me forget, how de Sun in de Ocean
Be sinking, how loud blow de breeze:
Me no hear de tempest, in wildest commotion--
Hear nought but de sigh of Engleese.
And, O! oft me tell him he have distant jewel;
But he swear, he love no one as me:
Poor Neekah believe him, and tink him no cruel;
But, my Heart! ah, how cruel he be !
Ven he kiss on my lip, and say "Neekah no leave
And clasp to his bosom so kind;
O! me tought, how was sweet, and no tink him deceive me
But white man unsteady as wind.
So pass, in kind Love, many Ev'ning and Morning: Poor Neekah no fear what to come;
Dat sweet Dry to de bad Rainy Season be turning, And white man leave Neekah's sweet home.
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