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
Thou thought to dwell
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell
That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble
But house or hald
To thole the Winter's sleety dribble
An' cranreuch cauld!
But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane
In proving foresight may be vain
The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men
Rough English translation: 
 That small bit heap of leaves and stubble, Has cost you many a weary nibble! Now you are turned out, for all your trouble, Without house or holding, To endure the winter’s sleety dribble, And hoar-frost cold. 
 Although it looks humble to him, the mouse’s nest took massive effort to build. Now for all the trouble she’d gone through to construct it, she has nothing but cold to look forward to. The speaker feels remorse for destroying her home.
To a Mouse