Tam Samson's Elegy.[1] Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A B CCCDCD EEEFED CCCFCD GHHFHD IIIFID CCCFCD JKKDLD MMNFND OOOPOD DDDDDD KKKDKD KKKDKD DDDDDD QQQDQD RRRDRD S OTOT K RRRERE| An honest man's the noblest work of God | A |
| - | |
| Pope | B |
| - | |
| - | |
| Has auld Kilmarnock seen the deil | C |
| Or great M'Kinlay thrawn his heel | C |
| Or Robinson again grown weel | C |
| To preach an' read | D |
| Na waur than a' cries ilka chiel | C |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| Kilmarnock lang may grunt an' grane | E |
| An' sigh an' sob an' greet her lane | E |
| An' cleed her bairns man wife an wean | E |
| In mourning weed | F |
| To death she's dearly paid the kane | E |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| The brethren o' the mystic level | C |
| May hing their head in woefu' bevel | C |
| While by their nose the tears will revel | C |
| Like ony bead | F |
| Death's gien the lodge an unco devel | C |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| When Winter muffles up his cloak | G |
| And binds the mire like a rock | H |
| When to the lochs the curlers flock | H |
| Wi' gleesome speed | F |
| Wha will they station at the cock | H |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| He was the king o' a' the core | I |
| To guard or draw or wick a bore | I |
| Or up the rink like Jehu roar | I |
| In time o' need | F |
| But now he lags on death's hog score | I |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| Now safe the stately sawmont sail | C |
| And trouts be dropp'd wi' crimson hail | C |
| And eels weel ken'd for souple tail | C |
| And geds for greed | F |
| Since dark in death's fish creel we wail | C |
| Tam Samson dead | D |
| - | |
| Rejoice ye birring patricks a' | J |
| Ye cootie moor cocks crousely craw | K |
| Ye maukins cock your fud fu' braw | K |
| Withouten dread | D |
| Your mortal fae is now awa' | L |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| That woefu' morn be ever mourn'd | M |
| Saw him in shootin' graith adorn'd | M |
| While pointers round impatient burn'd | N |
| Frae couples freed | F |
| But Och he gaed and ne'er return'd | N |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| In vain auld age his body batters | O |
| In vain the gout his ancles fetters | O |
| In vain the burns cam' down like waters | O |
| An acre braid | P |
| Now ev'ry auld wife greetin' clatters | O |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| Owre many a weary hag he limpit | D |
| An' ay the tither shot he thumpit | D |
| Till coward death behind him jumpit | D |
| Wi' deadly feide | D |
| Now he proclaims wi' tout o' trumpet | D |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| When at his heart he felt the dagger | K |
| He reel'd his wonted bottle swagger | K |
| But yet he drew the mortal trigger | K |
| Wi' weel aim'd heed | D |
| L d five he cry'd an' owre did stagger | K |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither | K |
| Ilk sportsman youth bemoan'd a father | K |
| Yon auld grey stane amang the heather | K |
| Marks out his head | D |
| Whare Burns has wrote in rhyming blether | K |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| There low he lies in lasting rest | D |
| Perhaps upon his mould'ring breast | D |
| Some spitefu' muirfowl bigs her nest | D |
| To hatch an' breed | D |
| Alas nae mair he'll them molest | D |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| When August winds the heather wave | Q |
| And sportsmen wander by yon grave | Q |
| Three volleys let his mem'ry crave | Q |
| O' pouther an' lead | D |
| 'Till echo answer frae her cave | Q |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
| - | |
| Heav'n rest his soul whare'er he be | R |
| Is th' wish o' mony mae than me | R |
| He had twa fauts or may be three | R |
| Yet what remead | D |
| Ae social honest man want we | R |
| Tam Samson's dead | D |
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| - | |
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| Epitaph | S |
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| Tam Samson's weel worn clay here lies | O |
| Ye canting zealots spare him | T |
| If honest worth in heaven rise | O |
| Ye'll mend or ye win near him | T |
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| - | |
| - | |
| Per Contra | K |
| - | |
| Go Fame an' canter like a filly | R |
| Thro' a' the streets an' neuks o' Killie | R |
| Tell ev'ry social honest billie | R |
| To cease his grievin' | E |
| For yet unskaith'd by death's gleg gullie | R |
| Tam Samson's livin' | E |
Robert Burns
(1)
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