I'm truly sorry Man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion
An' fellow-mortal!
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave
An' never miss't!
Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin
Baith snell an' keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast
An' weary Winter comin fast
An' cozie here, beneath the blast
Rough English translation: 
 Your small house, too, in ruin! Its feeble walls the winds are scattering! And nothing now, to build a new one, Of coarse grass green! And bleak December’s winds coming, Both bitter and keen! 
 Burns now turns attention to the ruin that he’s brought on the mouse’s existence. Her “house,” referring to her nest, is totally destroyed, and she has nothing to build a new one with before winter comes. 
  Once again the speaker is showing sympathy towards the mouse as its house is ruined and it does not have the necessary materials to rebuild it. The speaker uses odd contractions to convey the authentic Scottish dialect such as “wa’s” for walls and “win’s” for winds.
To a Mouse