Address To The Toothache
Language:
English
My curse upon your venom'd stang,
That shoots my tortur'd gums alang,
An' thro' my lug gies mony a twang,
Wi' gnawing vengeance,
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,
Like racking engines!
When fevers burn, or argues freezes,
Rheumatics gnaw, or colics squeezes,
Our neibor's sympathy can ease us,
Wi' pitying moan;
But thee-thou hell o' a' diseases-
Aye mocks 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,
While, raving mad, I wish a heckle
Were in their doup!
In a' the numerous human dools,
Ill hairsts, daft bargains, cutty stools,
Or worthy frien's rak'd i' the mools, -
Sad sight to see!
The tricks o' knaves, or fash o'fools,
Thou bear'st the gree!
Where'er that place be priests ca' hell,
Where a' the tones o' misery yell,
An' ranked plagues their numbers tell,
In dreadfu' raw,
Thou, Toothache, surely bear'st the bell,
Amang them a'!
O 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 a' the faes o' Scotland's weal
A townmond's toothache!
Authorship
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text),
listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
[ None yet in the database ]
Set in
German,
a translation of
Wilhelm Gerhard
GER
Date added to the website: 2004-06-29.
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Zahnweh
Language:
German
Wie du mit gift'gem Stachel fast
Die Kiefern mir zerrissen hast
Mein Ohr durchdröhnet ohne Rast
Dein Marterstich.
Du bist der Nerven Pein und Last:
Fluch über dich!
Stellt Fiebers Glut und Frost sich ein,
Zwickt's hier und dort in Mark und Bein,
Mitleid und trost wird uns verleih'n
Des Nachbar's Herz;
Du aber fügst zu Höllenpein
Noch Spottes Schmerz!
Mir rieselt's eiskalt uber's Kinn,
Die Sessel schleudr' ich her und hin,
Um's Feuer tanzt mit lust'gem Sinn
Die kleine Brut,
ein Schwarm von Hummeln,
Ach! Ich bin Wahnsinn und Wut!
Von allen Plagen auf der Welt,
Missratner Ernte, wenig Geld,
Der Schurken Zunft,
Die Netze stellt
Mit List und Fleiss
Und dem, was Freud' uns sonst vergällt,
trägst du den Preis!
O Schweifelhauptg im Glutpalast,
Der du die Qual geboren hast,
Und willst, dass Nebel und Morast
Auf Erden weh',
Gib jedem, der Alt-Schottland hasst,
Ein Jahr dein Weh!
Input by Dr. Gert den Hartogh
Authorship
Based on
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text),
listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
Date added to the website: 2004-06-29.
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by