7. Ah, woe is me, my Mother dear by Robert Burns: Full Text of the Poem

7. Ah, woe is me, my Mother dear

by Robert Burns

18th Century · Short · 12 linesgrief

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-deniиd wight, By Fortune quite discarded; Ye see how I am, day and night, By lad and lass blackguarded!

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Public domain. Source: PoetryDB. Reproduced verbatim; see theanthology for the full collection.

Poems like 7. Ah, woe is me, my Mother dear

Matched by documented rules, not taste: two points for every theme tag a poem shares with 7. Ah, woe is me, my Mother dear, one point for the same era, one for a similar length.

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