To a Louse
On Seeing One on a Lady's Bonnet at Church

HA! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie?
Your impudence protects you sairly;
I canna say but ye strunt rarely,
Owre gauze and lace;
Tho�, faith! I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Detested, shunn�d by saunt an� sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her--
Sae fine a lady?
Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner
On some poor body.

Swith! in some beggar�s haffet squattle;
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle,
Wi� ither kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Whaur horn nor bane ne�er daur unsettle
Your thick plantations.

Now haud you there, ye�re out o� sight,
Below the fatt�rels, snug and tight;
Na, faith ye yet! ye�ll no be right,
Till ye�ve got on it--
The verra tapmost, tow�rin height
O� Miss� bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump an� grey as ony groset:
O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
Or fell, red smeddum,
I�d gie you sic a hearty dose o�t,
Wad dress your droddum.

I wad na been surpris�d to spy
You on an auld wife�s flainen toy;
Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy,
On�s wyliecoat;
But Miss� fine Lunardi! fye!
How daur ye do�t?

O Jeany, dinna toss your head,
An� set your beauties a� abread!
Ye little ken what cursed speed
The blastie�s makin:
Thae winks an� finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin.

O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
An� foolish notion:
What airs in dress an� gait wad lea�e us,
An� ev�n devotion!

-Robert Burns-