Caricamento in corso...

Address to the Tooth

My curse upon your venom’d stang,
That shoots my tortur’d gums alang;
And thro’ my lugs gies mony a twang,
    Wi’ gnawing vengeance;
Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang,
    Like racking engines!
When fevers burn, or ague freezes,
Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes;
Our neighbors’ sympathy may ease us,
    Wi’ pitying moan;
But thee—thou hell o’ a’ diseases—
    They mock our groan!
Adown my beard the slavers trickle!
I throw the wee stools o’er the mickle,
As round the fire the giglets keckle,
    To see me loup;
While raving mad, I wish a heckle
    Were in their doup.
O’ a’ the num’rous human dools,
Ill har’sts, daft bargains, cutty-stools,
Or worthy friends rak’d i’ the mools,
    Sad sight to see!
The tricks o’ knaves, or fash o’ fools,
    Thou bear’st the gree.
Where’er that place be priests ca’ hell,
Whence a’ the tones o’ mis’ry yell,
And rankd plagues their numbers tell,
    In dreadfu’ raw,
Thou, Tooth-ache, surely bear’st the bell
    Amang them a’!
O thou grim, mischief-making chiel,
That gars the notes of discord squeel,
Till daft mankiud aft dance a reel
    In gore a shoe-thick;—
Gie a’ the foes o’ Scotland’s weal
    A towmond’s Tooth-ache!
Altre opere di Robert Burns...