Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear by Robert Burns

AH, woe is me, my mother dear!
A man of strife ye’ve born me:
For sair contention I maun bear;
They hate, revile, and scorn me.

I ne’er could lend on bill or band,
That five per cent. might blest me;
And borrowing, on the tither hand,
The deil a ane wad trust me.

Yet I, a coin-deni?d wight,
By Fortune quite discarded;
Ye see how I am, day and night,
By lad and lass blackguarded!

by Robert Burns

Other poems by 'Robert Burns'

A Ballad

A Dirge

A Grace after Dinner

Willie brew’d a Peck o’ Maut

A Cantata

Sweet Afton

A Rose-bud by my Early Walk

The Farewell to the Brethren of St. James’s Lodge, Tarbolton

A Poet’s Welcome to his Love-Begotten Daughter

To The Beautiful Miss Eliza J-N

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