Explore "Reply to a Trimming Epistle Received from a Tailor" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
What ails ye now, ye lousie bitch / To thresh my back at sic a pitch? / Losh, man! hae mercy wi' your natch, / Your bodkin's bauld; / I didna suffer half sae much / Frae Daddie Auld.
What tho' at times, when I grow crouse, / I gie their wames a random pouse, / Is that enough for you to souse / Your servant sae? / Gae mind your seam, ye prick-the-louse, / An' jag-the-flea!