Robert Burns, Ode to Toothache
You took my cheekbone,
Pierce my gums with a needle,
Drill with a drill, saw with a saw
No stop.
Running, tormented and angry,
Like a mousetrap.
We see so many concerns.
When the fever hits us,
When gout bites us
Or stomach pain.
And the mouth pain is sharp.
And an idle joke!
I'm frantic, spitting out,
Breaking chairs like a stray,
When the neighbors are above me
There's laughter in the corner.
Let their demons harrow
They tickle in hell!
I've always had trouble.
Harvest, disease, need,
Shame on the wrong trial,
Debts, losses...
But I never tolerated it.
Such torture!
And I'm sure in hell,
Where on the high court
I'm sure I will.
(There's no doubt about that!)
You'll be first in a row.
My torment.
O spirit of strife and war,
What bears the name of Satan
And he was thrown from above.
For self-will,
Execution of enemies of my country
Toothache!