till coward death behind him jumpit,
wi' deadly feid;
now he procims wi' tout o' trumpet,
“tam samson's dead!”
when at his heart he felt the dagger,
he reel'd his wonted bottle-swagger,
but yet he drew the mortal trigger,
wi' weel-aimed heed;
“lord, five!” he cry'd, an' owre did stagger—
tam samson's dead!
ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither;
ilk sportsman youth bemoan'd a father;
yon auld gray stane, amang the heather,
marks out his head;
whare burns has wrote, in rhyming blether,
“tam sa
Tam Samsons Elegy(5/7)