Poem by Robert Burns

A Jeremiad

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 bond
  That, five per cent, might blest me;
And borrowing, on the t’other 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.

1. I Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen
2. Blythe Was She
3. The Flowery Banks of Cree
4. Farewell to Ballochmyle
5. The Banks of Nith (THE THAMES flows proudly to the sea)

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