Wee sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie
O what a panic's in thy breastie
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi' bickering battle.
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee
Wi' murd'ring pattle
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken natures social union
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes the startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion
An' fellow mortal.
I doubt na, whiles , but thou may thieve
What then ? poor beastie, thou maun live
A daimen-icker in a thrave
S a sma' request
Ill get a blessing wi the lave
And never miss't
Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin'
And neathing , now , to big a new ane
O' foggage green
An bleak Decembers winds ensuin'
Baith snell an' keen
Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste
An' weary winter comin' fast
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell
Till, crash. the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell
That wee bit heap o' leaves an stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble.
Now thou turn'd out, for a' thy trouble
But house or hald
To thole the winter's sleety dribble
An' cranreuch cauld
But , mousie, thou art no thy lane
In proving foresight may be vain
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
gang aft a-gley
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain
For promised joy.
Still thou art blest, compared wi" me.
The present only toucheth thee,
But, oh. I backward cast my e'e
On prospects drear.
An' forward , tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear.
Enjoy Sno and VV, good luck with this spelling....
If we would read the secret history of our enemies,we would find in each mans life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.