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Poems and Songs of Robert Burns: The Bard At Inverary

The Bard At Inverary

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.
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