to be kind,
Had biled the firstlins o' her yaird
(For naethin' else Tam wud hae sair'd),
Sae when they cam' frae Jean's clean pat,
Altho' they seemed a trifle wat,
Tam in his hunger ate a meal
That wud hae staw'd the big black Deil,
Syne at his cutty had a draw,
Syne gantit wi' wide-open jaw,
An' aince his heid was on the cod,
He sune was in the land o' Nod.

IV.
But when the knock had chappit four
Tam had to rise an' get attour,
For in his bed he couldna' bide
He'd sic a steer in his inside!
The granes o'm waukent faithfu' Jean.
An' then began a bonny scene!
A parritch poultice first she tries,
Het plates on plates she multiplies,
But ilka time his puddens rum'les
A' owre the place Tam rows an' tum'les,
For men in sic-like situations,
Gude kens hae gey sma' stock o' patience!
Yet fast the pain grows diabolic,
A reg'lar, riving, ragin' colic,
A loupin', gowpin', stoondin' pain
That gars the sweat hail doon like rain.
Whiles Tam gangs dancin' owre the flair,
Whiles cheeky-on intil a chair,
Whiles some sma' comfort he achieves
By brizzin' hard wi' baith his nieves;
In a' his toilsome tack o' life
Ne'er had he kent sic inward strife,
For while he couldna' sit, forbye
Like Washington he couldna' lie!

V.
Noo, at lang last his guts was rackit
Till Tam was bullerin' fair distrackit,
An' sune wi' roar succeedin' roar
He fosh in a' the fowk neist door,
An' ane o' them-auld Girsie Broon-
She ran an' brocht the doctor doon,
Wha hurried in a' oot o' breath,
For Girsie said 'twas life or death!
The doctor oxter'd Tam till's bed,
Fingert his wame an shook his head;
"We who pursue the healing art,
See youth commence and age depart,
Pills we prescribe and pulses feel,
Your systems know from scalp to heel!
And here? Potato indigestion,
Of that there's not the slightest question,
While, what my great experience teaches
Is most relief is got from leeches."-
"Awa'," yells Tam, "fesh hauf a dizzen!
O haste ye, ere I loss my rizzon!"
Sae aff gangs wullin' Girsie Broon,
To wauk the druggist wast the toon.

VI.
Noo, Droggie had an awfu' stock,
Tobacco, wreetin' paper, rock,
A' kin' o' wersh tongue-twistin' drinks,
A' kin' o' Oriental stinks,
The best cod liver ile emulsions,
Wee poothers that could cure convulsions,
Famed Peter Puffer's soothin' syrup,
An' stuff to gar canaries chirrup.
He'd toothache tinctur's, cures for corns,
Pomades to gar hair grow on horns,
He'd stuff for healin' beelin' lugs,
He'd