English poetry

Poems in English


7. Ah, woe is me, my Mother dear

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!


1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

Poem 7. Ah, woe is me, my Mother dear - Robert Burns