My curse upon your venom’d stang,
That shoots my tortur’d gums alang,
An’ thro’ my luggies mony a twang,
Wi’ gnawing vengeance,
Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang,
Like racking engines!
When fevers burn, or argues freezes,
Rheumatics gnaw, or colics squeezes,
Our neibor’s sympathy can ease us,
Wi’pitying moan;
Butthee-thou hell o’ a’ diseases-
Aye mocks our groan.
Adown my beard the slavers trickle
I throw the weestools o’er the mickle,
While round the fire the gigletskeckle,
To see me loup,
While, raving mad, I wish a heckle
Were in their doup!
In a’ the numerous human dools,
Ill hairsts, daft bargains, cuttystools,
Or worthy frien’s rak’d i’the mools, –
Sad sight to see!
The tricks o’ knaves, orfasho’fools,
Thou bear’st the gree!
Where’er that place be priests ca’hell,
Where a’ the tones o’ misery yell,
An’ranked plagues their numbers tell,
In dreadfu’ raw,
Thou, Toothache, surely bear’st the bell,
Amangthem a’!
O thou grim, mischief-making chiel,
That gars the notes o’ discord squeel,
Tilldaftmankind aftdance a reel
In gore, a shoe-thick,
Giea’the faes o’Scotland’s weal
A townmond’s toothache!