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-denied wight, By Fortune quite discarded; Ye see how I am, day and night, By lad and lass blackguarded! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ASOLANDO: REPHAN by ROBERT BROWNING WAITING BY THE GATE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT VERSICLES by GEORGE GORDON BYRON CLEOPATRA DYING by THOMAS STEPHENS COLLIER THE LILY OF OUR VALLEY by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES |