Lines Written on a Bank-Note WAE worth thy power, thou cursed leaf! Fell source o’ a’ my woe and grief! For lack o’ thee I’ve lost my lass! For lack o’ thee I scrimp my glass! I see the children of affliction Unaided, thro’ thy curs’d restriction. I’ve seen the oppressor’s cruel smile Amid his hapless victim’s spoil, And for thy potence vain have wuss’d To crush the villain in the dust. For lack o’ thee I leave this much-lov’d shore, Never, perhaps, to greet old Scotland more. 1786 |
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