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-denied wight,
By Fortune quite discarded;
Ye see how I am, day and night,
By lad and lass blackguarded!
Robert Burns's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear by Robert Burns )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- Our Roads, Somanathan Iyer
- It's Not Just Rain, Daniel Skentelbery
- The Day After I Shouted Abuse at the Queen, Daniel Skentelbery
- Name-Calling, Diane Hine
- A pan fried fish…?, Mark Heathcote
- The Persecuted, Sandra Feldman
- wedding day, ademola oluwabusayo
- Dream the moon, Somanathan Iyer
- आंनि देरा, Bahadur Basumatary
- Oh Israel, Michael Shutt