Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the key-stane of the brig;
There, at them thou thy tail may toss:
A running stream they dare na cross.
But ere the key-stane she could make,
The feint a tail she had to shake!
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard on 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 grey 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 mither's son tak' heed,
Whene'er tae drink ye are inclined;
Or cutty sarks rin in your mind-
Think! ye may buy the joys ower dear
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare!
Tam o' Shanter (January, 1791)