132. Reply to a Trimming Epistle, received from a Tailor (Robert Burns Poem)
WHAT ails ye now, ye lousie bitch To thresh my back at sic a pitch? Losh, man! hae mercy wi' ...
WHAT ails ye now, ye lousie bitch To thresh my back at sic a pitch? Losh, man! hae mercy wi' ...
'This envelope you say has something in it Which once belonged to your dead son-or something He knew, was fond ...
WHY am I loth to leave this earthly scene? Have I so found it full of pleasing charms? Some drops ...
O THOU, who in the heavens does dwell, Who, as it pleases best Thysel', Sends ane to heaven an' ten ...
HERE Holy Willie's sair worn clay Taks up its last abode; His saul has ta'en some other way, I fear, ...
WHEN Guilford good our pilot stood An' did our hellim thraw, man, Ae night, at tea, began a plea, Within ...
The vision of Christ that thou dost see Is my vision's greatest enemy. Thine has a great hook nose like ...
Whate'er is Born of Mortal Birth, Must be consumed with the Earth To rise from Generation free: Then what have ...
Pity would be no more, If we did not make somebody Poor; And Mercy no more could be. If all ...
arrive. The Ladies from the Ladies' Betterment League Arrive in the afternoon, the late light slanting In diluted gold bars ...
and the sun weilds mercy but like a jet torch carried to high, and the jets whip across its sight ...
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