Robert Burns Poems

Back to Poems Page

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-deniиd wight,
By Fortune quite discarded;
Ye see how I am, day and night,
By lad and lass blackguarded!

Email This Poem to a Friend

Previous Poem | Next Poem

View Robert Burns:  Poems | Quotes | Biography | Books

Copyright © 2006 - 2010 Famous Poets And Poems . com. All Rights Reserved.
The Poems and Quotes on this site are the property of their respective authors. All information has been
reproduced here for educational and informational purposes.