To a Louse
The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, 1786
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crawlin ferlie!Your impudence protects you sairly:I canna say but ye strunt rarely,Owre gauze and lace;Tho' faith, I fear ye dine but sparelyOn sic a place.
Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner,How dare ye set your fit upon her,Sae fine a lady!Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinnerOn some poor body.
Swith, in some beggar's haffet squattle;There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattleWi' ither kindred, jumping cattle,In shoals and nations;Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettleYour thick plantations.
Now haud ye there, ye're out o' sight,Below the fatt'rels, snug an' tight;Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be rightTill ye've got on it,The vera tapmost, tow'ring heightO' Miss's bonnet.
My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,As plump and gray as onie grozet;O for some rank, mercurial rozet,Or fell, red smeddum,I'd gie you sic a hearty doze o't,Wad dress your droddum!
I wad na been surpris'd to spyYou on an auld wife's flannen toy;Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,On's wyliecoat;But Miss's fine Lunardi! fie,How daur ye do't?
O, Jenny, dinna toss your head,An' set your beauties a' abread!Ye little ken what cursed speedThe blastie's makin!Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,Are notice takin!
O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie usTo see oursels as others see us!It wad frae monie a blunder free usAnd foolish notion:What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,And ev'n Devotion!