The Poetry of Robert Burns Edited by William Ernest Henley and Thomas F. Henderson |
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ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE |
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| III. |
| IV. |
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 | The Poetry of Robert Burns |  |
ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE
I
My curse upon your venom'd stang,That shoots my tortur'd gooms alang,
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Wi' gnawing vengeance,
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,
Like racking engines!
II
A' down my beard the slavers trickle,I throw the wee stools o'er the mickle,
While round the fire the giglets keckle
To see me loup,
An', raving mad, I wish a heckle
Were i' their doup!
III
When fevers burn, or ague freezes,Rheumatics gnaw, or colic squeezes,
Our neebors sympathise to ease us
Wi' pitying moan;
But thee!—thou hell o' a' diseases,
They mock our groan!
IV
Of a' the num'rous human dools—Ill-hairsts, daft bargains, cutty-stools,
Or worthy frien's laid i' the mools,
Sad sight to see!
The tricks o' knaves, or fash o' fools—
Thou bear'st the gree!
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V
Whare'er that place be priests ca' Hell,Whare a' the tones o' misery yell,
An' rankèd plagues their numbers tell
In dreadfu' raw,
Thou, Toothache, surely bear'st the bell
Amang them a'!
VI
O thou grim, mischief-making chiel,That gars the notes o' discord squeel
Till humankind aft dance a reel
In gore a shoe-thick,
Gie a' the faes o' Scotland's weal
A towmond's toothache.
| The Poetry of Robert Burns | |