Happy Burns' Night to all the Scottish Clans ......
Happy Burns' Night .....
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Happy Burns' Night .....
by phoenix » Sat Jan 26, 2008 10:46 pm
"... Tonight, in Scottish households across the land, glasses will be raised and haggis addressed in honour of Robert Burns, feted poet and national hero. Since his death in deepest poverty in 1796 at the age of 37, the man has become a sentimental legend... "
Happy Burns' Night to all the Scottish Clans ......
Happy Burns' Night to all the Scottish Clans ......
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phoenix - Main Contributor
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by rawk » Sun Jan 27, 2008 1:01 am
I pinched this from a website north of the border, ye ken!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twtVV317Afg
Happy Burns night!
rawk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twtVV317Afg
Happy Burns night!
rawk
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rawk - Contributor
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by zan » Sun Jan 27, 2008 2:17 am
Much better than those droning bagpipes rawk!!!!
Here is the only poem by Rabbie Burns that I know....
TO A MOUSE ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH
November, 1785, by Robert Burns
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Th need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
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, whiles, 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' waste,
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 mony 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 are no the lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
Still thou art blest, compared wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!
Here is the only poem by Rabbie Burns that I know....
TO A MOUSE ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH
November, 1785, by Robert Burns
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Th need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
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, whiles, 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' waste,
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 mony 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 are no the lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
Still thou art blest, compared wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!
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zan - Leading Contributor
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by Oracle » Sun Jan 25, 2009 11:12 am
It's that time of year again, for wannabe Scots, half-caste Scots, married-to Scots and of course the Genuine Scots .... to go hunting for their Haggis!
Och aye the nou to you
Och aye the nou to you
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Oracle - Leading Contributor
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