Tam Samson's dead!
Rejoice, ye birring paitricks a'; whirring partridges
Ye cootie moorcocks, crousely craw; leg-plumed, confidently
Ye maukins, cock your fud fu' braw, hares, tail
Withouten dread;
Your mortal fae is now awa',—
Tam Samson's dead!
That woefu' morn be ever mourn'd
Saw him in shootin graith adorn'd, attire