WHOE'ER he be that sojourns here,
I pity much his case,
Unless he comes to wait upon
The Lord their God, His Grace.
There's naething here but Highland pride,
And Highland scab and hunger:
If Providence has sent me here,
'Twas surely in his anger.
The Bard At Inverary
Robert Burns
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Poem topics: anger, god, pride, wait, hunger, providence, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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