Robert Burns

Cursed be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal, to the tyrant wife,
Who read more

Cursed be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal, to the tyrant wife,
Who has no will but by her high permission;
Who has not sixpence but in her possession;
Who must to her his dear friend's secret tell;
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell.
Were such the wife had fallen to my part,
I'd break her spirit or I'd break her heart.

Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
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Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
Out o'er the grassy lea.

G-- knows I'm no the thing I should be,
Nor am I even the thing I could be,
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G-- knows I'm no the thing I should be,
Nor am I even the thing I could be,
But twenty times I rather would be
An atheist clean,
Than under gospel colours hid be,
Just for a screen.

Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray,
By passion driven;
But yet the light that led astray,
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Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray,
By passion driven;
But yet the light that led astray,
Was light from Heaven.

His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony,
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither--
They had been fou for read more

His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony,
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither--
They had been fou for weeks thegither!