Poem by Robert Burns

Epigram Written at Inverary

WHOE’ER he be that sojourns here,
  I pity much his case,
Unless he come 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.

1. Fairest Maid on Devon Banks
2. O Wha is She that Lo’es Me?
3. The Highland Lassie
4. Weary Fa’ You, Duncan Gray
5. Farewell to Ballochmyle

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