e,
an' cleed her bairns, man, wife, an' wean,
in m weed;
to death she's dearly pay'd the kane—
tam samson's dead!
the brethren, o' the mystic level
may hing their head in woefu' bevel,
while by their he tears will revel,
like ony bead;
death's gien the lodge an unco devel;
tam samson's dead!
when winter muffles up his cloak,
and binds the mire like a rock;
when to the loughs the curlers flock,
wi' gleesome speed,
wha will they station at the cock?
tam samson's dead!
when winter muf
Tam Samsons Elegy(2/7)