While by their nose the tears will revel, Death's gien the lodge an unco devel – blow Tam Samson's dead! When Winter muffles up his cloak, 1 When to the loch the curlers 1 flock, Wha will they station at the cock? He was the king o' a' the core, In time o' need ; mark proper line But now he lags on Death's hog-score Now safe the stately sawmont sail, salmon 1 Curling is a game played on the ice with large round stones. The object of the player is to lay his stone as near the mark as possible, to guard that of his partner, if well laid before, and to strike off that of his antagonist; and the great art in the game is to make the stones bend in towards the mark, when it is so blocked up that they cannot be directed in a straight line. See Jamieson's Dict. 2 Go straight to the mark. 3 Strike a stone in an oblique direction. 4 The hog-score is a line crossing the course (rink), near its extremity: a stone which does not pass it is set aside. pikes And geds for greed, Since dark in Death's fish-creel we wail basket Tam Samson dead! Rejoice, ye birring paitricks a'; whirring partridges Ye cootie moorcocks crously craw; feather-legged 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 mourned But, och he gaed, and ne'er returned! In vain auld age his body batters ; dress Now every auld wife, greetin', clatters weeping Tam Samson's dead! Owre many a weary hag he limpit, break in a moss Now he proclaims, wi' tout o' trumpet, feud When at his heart he felt the dagger, L—, five!" he cried, and owre did stagger— Tam Samson's dead! Ilk hoary hunter mourned a brither; Where Burns has wrote, in rhyming blether, Tam Samson's dead! There low he lies, in lasting rest; Alas! nae mair he'll them molest! Tam Samson's dead! When August winds the heather wave, Till Echo answer frae her cave, Heaven rest his saul, where'er he be! nonsense He had twa fauts, or maybe three, Ae social, honest man want we: Tam Samson's dead! EPITAPH. Tam Samson's weel-worn clay here lies, If honest worth in heaven rise, Ye'll mend or ye win near him. help get PER CONTRA. Go, Fame, and canter like a fillie Through a' the streets and neuks o' Killie ; Tell every social, honest billie To cease his grievin', gullie, For yet, unskaithed by Death's gleg Tam Samson's leevin'! 2 1 fellow sharp knife 1 Killie is a phrase the country-folks sometimes use for Kilmarnock. B. 2 When this worthy old sportsman went out last muirfowl season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian's phrase, "the last of his fields," and expressed an ardent wish to die and be buried in the muirs. On this hint the author composed his elegy and epitaph. - B. "The following anecdote was communicated by an intimate friend of Burns, the late William Parker, Esq., of Assloss, a gentleman whose excellent social qualities, and kind, hospitable disposition, will be long remembered in Ayrshire: "At a jovial meeting one evening in Kilmarnock, at which Burns, Mr. Parker, and Mr. Samson were present, the poet, after the glass had circulated pretty freely, said 'He had indited a few lines, which, with the company's permission, he would read to them.' The proposal was joyfully acceded to, and the poet immediately read aloud his inimitable Tam Samson's Elegy 'Has auld Kilmarnock seen the deil?' etc. The company was convulsed with laughter, with the exception of one individual the subject, videlicet, of the verses. As the burden, Tam Samson's dead,' came round, Tam twisted and turned his body into all variety of postures, evidently not on a bed of roses. Burns saw the bait had taken, and fixing his keen black eye on his victim (Sir Walter Scott says that Burns had the finest eyes in his head he had ever seen in mortal,) mercilessly pursued his sport with waggish glee. At last flesh and blood could stand it no longer. Tam, evidently anything but pleased, roared out vociferously: 'Ou ay, but I'm no deid yet!' Shouts of laughter followed from the rest, and Burns continued to read, ever and anon interrupted with Tam's 'Ay, but I'm no deid yet!' After he had finished, Burns took an opportunity of slipping out quietly, and returned in a few minutes with his well-known PER CONTRA. Go, Fame, and canter like a fillie Through a' the streets and neuks o' Killie; To cease his grievin', For yet, unskaithed by Death's gleg gullie, We need not say that Tam was propitiated. Like the 'humble auld beggar,' in our humorous old Scotch ballad, 'He helpit to drink his ain dregie,' and the night was spent in the usual joyous manner where Burns was the presiding genius. - MERCATOR." (From a Glasgow newspaper, Dec. 7, 1850.) |