Here you will find the Poem Address To The Tooth-Ache of poet Robert Burns
My curse upon your venom'd stang, That shoots my tortur'd gums alang; And thro' my lugs gies mony a twang, Wi' gnawing vengeance; Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang, Like racking engines! When fevers burn, or ague freezes, Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes; Our neighbors' sympathy may ease us, Wi' pitying moan; But thee -- thou hell o' a' diseases -- They mock our groan! Adown my beard the slavers trickle! I throw the wee stools o'er the mickle, As round the fire the giglets keckle, To see me loup; While raving mad, I wish a heckle Were in their doup. O' a' the num'rous human dools, Ill har'sts, daft bargains, cutty-stools, Or worthy friends 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, Whence a' the tones o' mis'ry yell, And rankd plagues their numbers tell, In dreadfu' raw, Thou, Tooth-ache, surely bear'st the bell Amang them a'! O thou grim, mischief-making chiel, That gars the notes of discord squeel, Till daft mankiud aft dance a reel In gore a shoe-thick; -- Gie a' the foes o' Scotland's weal A towmond's Tooth-ache!