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.

Opera is where a guy gets stabbed in the back, and instead of dying, he sings.

Opera is where a guy gets stabbed in the back, and instead of dying, he sings.

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.

Some wee short hour ayont the twal.

Some wee short hour ayont the twal.

John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
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John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonny brow was brent.