 | The Poetry of Robert Burns |  |
LINES WRITTEN ON A BANK NOTE
Wae worth thy power, thou cursed leaf!Fell source of a' my woe and grief,
For lack o' thee I've lost my lass,
For lack o' thee I scrimp my glass!
I see the children of affliction
Unaided, through thy curs'd restriction.
I've seen the oppressor's cruel smile
Amid his hapless victims' spoil;
And for thy potence vainly wish'd
To crush the villain in the dust.
For lack o' thee I leave this much-lov'd shore,
Never, perhaps, to greet old Scotland more.
R. B.
Kyle
| The Poetry of Robert Burns | |