Old Tam the Traveller would come by our way
around the end of March and the start of May.
He’d pitch his bow tent down the brae,
where he’d bide a while.
But he’d itchy feet and could never stay.
It was not his style.

Old Tam was a maker, a mender, a seller.
A witty, wise, warm-hearted feller.
Kin to a family of loch-side dwellers
from around Argyll.
His folk were master storytellers
and their tales beguiled.

Old Tam was famous for his traveller’s tales,
of mermaids, changelings and humpback whales.
When Traveller Tam’s tall tales set sail,
who knew where they’d land!
But he’d always smuggle in new details
like contraband.

When folk left Tam’s dark traveller’s tent
they’d couldn’t tell you the hours they’d spent
or the tales they’d heard or what they meant,
but their hearts felt lighter.
And as old Tam’s tales continued to ferment
the world seemed brighter.