Chapter 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.