Address to the Toothache by Robbie Burns My curse upon your venom’d stang, That shoots my tortur’d gooms alang, An’ thro’ my lug gies monie a twang Wh’ gnawing vengeance, Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang, Like racking engines! When fevers burn, or ague freezes, Rheumatics gnaw, or colic squeezes, Our neebors sympathize to ease us Wi’ pitying moan; But thee! – thou hell o’ a’ diseases, They mock our groan! Whare’er that place be priests ca’ Hell Whare a’ the tones o’ misery yell, An’ ranked plagues their numbers tell In dreadfu’ raw. Thou, Toothache, surely bear’st the bell Amang them a’! Burn’s night … Continue reading →