Robbie Burns (1759 – 1796) Born in Alloway in South Ayrshire in 1759, the son of a farmer, Scotland’s national bard was the eldest of seven children. At this time Scotland was probably the most literate country in Europe and as a result Robert was well read and educated, despite regarding himself as a simple tenant farmer.
He was a poet and a lyricist and is widely regarded as the
national poet of
Scotland,
He is regarded as a pioneer of the
Romantic movement and after his death became an important source of inspiration to the founders of both
liberalism and
socialism.
Celebration of his life and work became almost a national
charismatic cult during the 19th and 20th centuries, and his influence has long been strong on
Scottish literature.
Address To The ToothacheBy Robbie Burns
My curse upon your venom'd stang,
That shoots my tortur'd gooms alang,
An' thro' my lug gies monie a twang
Wh' gnawing vengeance,
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,
Like racking engines!
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!
When fevers burn, or ague freezes,
Rheumatics gnaw, or colic squeezes,
Our neebors sympathize to ease us
Wi' pitying moan;
But thee! - thou hell o' a' diseases,
They mock our groan!
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!
Whare'er that place be priests ca' Hell,
Whare a' the tones o' misery yell,
An' ranked plagues their numbers tell
In dreadfu' raw,
Thou, Toothache, surely bear'st the bell
Amang them a'!
O thou grim, mischief-making chiel,
That gars the notes o' discord squeal,
Till humankind aft dance a reel
In gore a shoe-thick,
Gie a' the faes o' Scotland's weal
A towmond's toothache.