‘Tam Samson's dead!’
‘Heav'n rest his saul, where'er he be!’
Is th' wish o' mony mae than me: more
He had twa fauts, or maybe three,
Yet what remead? remedy
Ae social honest man want we: One
Tam Samson's dead!
the epitaph
Tam Samson's weel-worn clay here lies:
Ye canting zealots, spare him!