Oreeginal Orthographies - Address To The Toothache

My curse upon your venom'd stang,
That shoots my tortur'd gums alang,
An' thro' my lugs gies sic a twang,
Wi' gnawing vengeance,
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,
Like racking engines!

When fever burn, or agues freeze us,
Rheumatics gnaw, or colics squeeze us,
Our neibor's sympathy can 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,
While round the fire the giglets keckle,
To see me loup,
An' ravin mad, I wish a heckle
Were in their doup!

In a' the numerous human dooles,
Ill-hairsts, daft bargains, cutty stools,
Or worthy frien's rak'd i the mools,-
Sad sight to see!
The tricks o' knaves, or fah o' fools,
Thou bear'st the gree!

Where'er that place be priests ca' hell,
Where a' the tones o' misery yell,
An' rankèt plagues their numbers tell,
In dreadfu' raw,
Thou, TOOTHACHE, surely bear'st the bell,
Amang them a'!

thou grim, mischief-making chiel,
That gars the notes o' discord squeel,
Till daft mankind aft dance a reel
In gore, a shoe-thick,
Gie's a' the faes o' SCOTLAND'S weal
A towmond's toothache!

~Lizzy~