Poem by Robert Burns

The Book-Worms

Through and through the inspired leaves,
  	Ye maggots, make your windings;
But, oh! respect his lordship’s taste,
  	And spare his golden bindings.

1. Canst Thou Leave Me Thus?
2. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
3. Address to General Dumourier
4. O Wha is She that Lo’es Me?
5. As Down the Burn They Took Their Way

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