Tam

“Nae ill; my saul is free frae blame, Nor hae I wrocht ower hard my wame, For last we fed, as ye maun awn, On a sma’ troot and pease-meal scone. But hear my dream, for aiblins you May find a way to riddle’t true....

I thocht that I was castin’ steady At the püle’s tail ayont the smiddy, Wi’ finest gut and sma’est flee, For the air was clear and the water wee; When sudden wi’ a rowst and swish I rase a maist enormous fish.... I struck and heuked the monster shüre, Guidsakes! to see him loup in air! It was nae saumon, na, nor troot; To the last yaird my line gaed oot, As up the stream the warlock ran As wild as Job’s Leviathan. I got him stopped below the linn, Whaur verra near I tummled in, Aye prayin’ hard my heuk wad haud; And syne he turned a dorty jaud, Sulkin’ far doun amang the stanes. I tapped the butt to stir his banes. He warsled here and plowtered there, But still I held him ticht and fair, The water rinnin’ oxter-hie, The sweat aye drippin’ in my ee. Sae bit by bit I wysed him richt And broke his stieve and fashious micht, Till sair fordone he cam to book And walloped in a shallow crook. I had nae gad, sae doun my wand I flang and pinned him on the sand. I claucht him in baith airms and peched Ashore—he was a michty wecht; Nor stopped till I had got him shüre Amang the threshes on the muir.

Then, Geordie lad, my een I rowed The beast was made o’ solid gowd!— Sic ferlie as was never kenned, A’ glitterin’ gowd frae end to end! I lauched, I grat, my kep I flang, I danced a sprig, I sang a sang. And syne I wished that I micht dee If wark again was touched by me....

Wi’ that I woke; nae fish was there— Juist the burnside and empty muir. Noo tell me honest, Geordie lad, Think ye yon daftlike aith will haud?”