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Epigram
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 an anger.
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Works written in 1787—The works of Robert Burns
Most Burns works can be attributed to a specific year.
Works read by Dawn Steele—The works of Robert Burns
All her recordings from the 250th anniversary project.
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