Address To The Toothache
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address to the toothache my curse upon your venom'd stang, that shoots my tums alang, an' thro' my lug gies mony a twang, wi' gnawing vengeance, tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang, like rag engines! when fevers burn, ues freezes, rheumatiaw, or colics squeezes, our neibor's sympathy ease us, wi' pitying moan; but thee—thou hell o' a' diseases— aye mocks roan. adown my beard the slavers trickle i throw the wee stools o'er the mickle, while round the fire the giglets keckle, to see me loup, while, raving mad, i wish a heckle were in their doup! in a' the numerous human dools, ill hairsts, daft bargains, cutty stools, or worthy frien's rak'd i' the mools,— sad sight to see! the tricks o' knaves, or fash o'fools, thou bear'st the gree! where'er that place be priests ca' hell, where a' the tones o' misery yell, an' ranked plagues their ell, in dreadfu' raw, thou, toothache, surely bear'st the bell, amang them a'! o thou grim, mischief-making chiel, that gars the notes o' discord squeel, till daft mankind aft dance a reel in gore, a shoe-thick, gie a' the faes o' scotland's weal a townmond's toothache!