As Sampson let himself be shorn
For you, these locks of love, I've worn
Savaged mane of Aslan's how,
Gold-tinted glory, given now
So run, Delilah, sing and play
Defy in joy this players' stage!
On which without a glowing crown
And twisted face in sodden frown
You wilted, caught by dripping Line
Within ward's cheeriness confined.
But turban-gone, now flaunt your crown
That, oh Delilah, love cut down.