That shoots my tortur’d gums alang,
And thro’ my lugs gies mony a twang,
Wi’ gnawing vengeance;
Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang,
Like racking engines!
[…]
Where’er that place be priests ca’ hell,
Whence a’ the tones o’ mis’ry yell,
And rankèd plagues their numbers tell,
In dreadfu’ raw,
Thou. Toothache, surely bear’st the bell
Amang them a’!
Robert Burns
Address To The Toothache