View Full Version : Burns Nicht

Lon More
25th Jan 2009, 10:06
Today marks his birth 250 years ago.

I remember , 50 years ago, standing in the Drill Hall, Dumfries, singing "Rantin' Rovin' Robin" to the assembled dignitaries as part of that celebration. Fortunately no recording exists!

To all those celebrating this evening, a wee foretaste

Address To A Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn,
they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve,
Are bent lyke drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
"Bethankit!" 'hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him ower his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,
Gie her a haggis!

For those not blessed with the tongue -

Fair is your honest happy face
Great chieftain of the pudding race
Above them all you take your place
Stomach, tripe or guts
Well are you worthy of a grace
As long as my arm

The groaning platter there you fill
Your buttocks like a distant hill
Your skewer would help to repair a mill
In time of need
While through your pores the juices emerge
Like amber beads

His knife having seen hard labour wipes
And cuts you up with great skill
Digging into your gushing insides bright
Like any ditch
And then oh what a glorious sight
Warm steaming, rich

Then spoon for spoon
They stretch and strive
Devil take the last man, on they drive
Until all their well swollen bellies
Are bent like drums
Then, the old gent most likely to rift (burp)
Be thanked, mumbles

Is there that over his French Ragout
Or olio that would sicken a pig
Or fricassee would make her vomit
With perfect disgust
Looks down with a sneering scornful opinion
On such a dinner

Poor devil, see him over his trash
As week as a withered rush (reed)
His spindle-shank a good whiplash
His clenched fist.the size of a nut.
Through a bloody flood and battle field to dash
Oh how unfit

But take note of the strong haggis fed Scot
The trembling earth resounds his tread
Clasped in his large fist a blade
He'll make it whistle
And legs and arms and heads he will cut off
Like the tops of thistles

You powers who make mankind your care
And dish them out their meals
Old Scotland wants no watery food
That splashes in dishes
But if you wish her grateful prayer
Give her a haggis!

25th Jan 2009, 10:26
Ahh Burns!

Only surpassed in his skill as a poet by the bard of Dundee, William Topaz McGonagall (http://www.mcgonagall-online.org.uk/)...

25th Jan 2009, 10:59
Ja, glaube das!

Desert Diner
25th Jan 2009, 11:11
Ah Robbie,

I spent hours at the Birks of Aberfeldy trying to comprhend his

The Birks O' Aberfeldy

Bonnie Lassie, will ye go,
Will ye go, will ye go,
Bonnie Lassie, will ye go
To the Birks of Aberfeldy?

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays;
Come, let us spead the lightsome days
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.

While O'er their heads the hazels hing,
The little birdies blithely sing,
Or lightly flit on wanton wing
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.

The braes ascend like lofty wa's.
The foaming stream deep-roaring fa's
O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws
The Birks of Aberfeldy

I finaly gave up and went for a pint at the Black Watch.

Happy Birthday Robbie and may the Hagis march and the whiskey flow

25th Jan 2009, 11:17
Isn't it odd that the Gentlemen of the Caledonian persuasion
regard the poet Burns in such awe?
The chap came from a hovel near Ayr as far as I know, and
qaulifies as a SASSENACH! along with the English b*st*rds! :ok:

PS WhiskEy=Irish

BAMRA wake up
25th Jan 2009, 11:45
The Trogger

As I cam doun by Annan side,
Intendin for the border,
Amang the Scroggie banks an braes
Wha met I but a trogger.

He laid me doun upon my back,
I thocht he was but jokin,
Till he was in me to the hilts,
O the deevil tak sic troggin!

What could I say, what could I dae,
I banned an sair misca’d him,
But whiltie-whaltie gaed his erse,
The mair that I forbad him:

He stell’d his fit against a stane,
An doubled ilka stroke in,
Till I gaed daft amang his hands,
O the deevil tak sic troggin!

Then up we raise, an teuk the road,
An in by Ecclefechan,
Where the brandy-stoup we gart it clink,
An the strang-beer ream the quech in

Bedown the bents o Bonshaw braes,
We teuk the partin yokin;
But I’ve clawed a sairy c**t sinsyne,
O the deevil tak sic troggin!

Desert Diner
25th Jan 2009, 11:47
PS WhiskEy=Irish

And your point being?

Krystal n chips
25th Jan 2009, 12:18
Ahem, much as one appreciates a little culture in one's life, one has to say that all this recital stuff is purely cosmetic now isn't it ?...c'mon admit it.....the whole event is just another excuse for a piss up after all ....:ok::E

And, just out of interest :E, how come after watching the excellent "History of Scotland " series on BBC2, deep fried snails and a celebration of Bastille Day don't feature in the long list of Scotland's traditions then hmmm ???? ;):E

25th Jan 2009, 12:25
Terminological correctness.


25th Jan 2009, 13:18
The chap came from a hovel near Ayr as far as I knowHe came from Alloway which is a small village but hardly a hovel in my opinion. 250 years ago most places were deprived of IKEA furnishings and Sky+ and unless you were rich or royal you pretty much walked about covered from head to toe in sh1t as was seen in the Monty Python factual documentary The Holy Grail. Nobody washed from the Middle Ages until 1976.

Why do people in England call him Robbie Burns and not Rabbie? Its not that difficult to say?:confused:

Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonie lasses!

25th Jan 2009, 15:38
Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonie lasses!

I was a pedestrian in Ayr. Traffic lights at red. First car driven by lady. Next car by Police. Lights turned green. Lady driver engaged gear, stalled engine, got confused, short delay in starting. Third and fourth cars in line started to hoot.

Calm voice came over speaker on front of Police car in usual Ayrshire tempo of two beats to the bar: "Haud oan! Jist haud yer water! Gi'e the lassie a chance tae get started".

Lady started engine. Engaged gear. Shot off backwards into front of Police car.

Calm voice from Police car resumed broadcast to High Street: "Ach! The silly wee bitch!"

Probably a descendant of Burns.

25th Jan 2009, 16:08
There is a strong possibility it was my mum at the wheel. She played the part of Jean Armour in the Ayr Pageant of 19 ?52.

Confess I'm a touch confused by norm's geography - in what way does The chap came from a hovel near Ayr as far as I know render him English?

25th Jan 2009, 16:21
Hovel or not, Burns would have understood Golf Bravo. Despite working on the farm from his very early teens, he appears to have been reasonably fluent in French and German.

There is strong but reluctant family tradition among the Davaars of blood kinship with Soutar Johnny in Tam O' Shanter. Strong, because that is how they believe it to be. Reluctant, because our lot were in the more evangelical clique, and hate to acknowledge association with the boozy lot.

They say my great great whatever used to walk from Maybole to the horse races at Ayr "to hear the evangelists". Well, that was what he said, apparently, and I suppose it could have been true. However it was, I hope he had a good time.

When my late Granny was small, her Mum's great threat to the children was: "Be good! Or Burns will get you!".

Lon More
25th Jan 2009, 16:43
Norm What's your point about the Gaelic? Burns wrote in Lallands, which is not the same as English, as even a shilpit wee nyaff :) like yourself should understand. Go back to the 14th-15th century and tAyr and much of Galloway was a Gaelic speaking area. As recently as 2001 there was still an area of Ayrshire where the Gaelic was still being spoken by a small percentage of the population.

Did you get geography lessons from Longshanks?:rolleyes:

Bamra. Much of his work has been censored to protect sensitive ears, for example Nine inch will please a lady (http://sniff.numachi.com/pages/tiNINEINCH;ttNINEINCH.html)

25th Jan 2009, 17:02
Stockie, It's the word Sassenach that the sweaties always use
for the English.
It,s just that it ALSO can be applied to lowland Scots. And was!
Especially those that joined in with the English. Which a lot did! :ok:

25th Jan 2009, 17:06
Lon, who pulled your chain?
I never mentioned Gaelic, I can't even spell it, so why
are you accusing me of abusing Gaelic?

PS Hae a happy Burns nicht!

Lon More
25th Jan 2009, 17:09
Might have been the disparging comments:E

25th Jan 2009, 17:12
Moi? Disparaging? Certainly NOT! :ok:

BAMRA wake up
25th Jan 2009, 17:35
Lon More, the entire Merry Muses collection is available as a pdf download:


I recall a bunch of rugger bugger ex public schoolboys reciting a few of these in the infamous Oxford Bar in Edinburgh back in the 70's, the then landlord Wullie Ross chucked them out!

25th Jan 2009, 17:44
............ and some people here mock at acquaintance wi' the Lallans! Whiles ye maun lauch.

25th Jan 2009, 17:50
Today marks his birth 250 years ago.

I remember , 50 years ago, standing in the Drill Hall, Dumfries, singing "Rantin' Rovin' Robin" to the assembled dignitaries as part of that celebration. Fortunately no recording exists!

To all those celebrating this evening, a wee foretaste

Address To A Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,

<rest of unintelligible drivel snipped>

sounds like an ex-line manager of mine: "och awee yer feece, shove yer wee grannie end haud yer wheesht yer wee Sassies" she said at least eight times a day.

And to this day I still don't have a clue what she was going on "aboot".

B Fraser
25th Jan 2009, 17:56
My favourite MacGonagall is...

On yonder hill there stood a coo
It must hae gaun as it's nae there noo !

and from the pen of William Topaz Fraser, the celebrated latter day tragedean who penned the following after the abortive attack on Glasgow Airport....

Brave Polis based at Abbotsinch
Frae yer duties, didnae flinch
When ma beard began tae singe
And sandals smoulder
My attempt failed at the last inch
Spreadeagled oan ra hard shoulder

I was felled by a muckle Glesca Kiss
Dealt oot by an irate Glesca Miss
On her way tae Corfu oan ra piss
My plan did she scupper
Oor goals are now in the abyss
Campaign for halal fish supper

Alloa Akbar is oor cry
Praise be The Big Yin in ra sky
Blessed is the mutton pie
And Irn Bru
Now Barlinnie food’s in store for I
Withoot a single virgin tae screw.

25th Jan 2009, 18:20
Maybe it's time for another airing[!] of:


Oh whit a sleekit horrible beastie
Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie
Jist as ye sit doon among yer kin
There sterts tae stir an enormous win'

The neeps 'n tatties 'n mushy peas
Stert workin' like a gentle breeze
But soon the puddin' wi' the sauncie face
Will hae ye blawin' a' ower the place

Nae maiter whit the hell ye dae
A'bodys gonnae hiv tae pay
Even if ye try tae stifle
Its like a bullet oot a rifle

Haw'd yer bum ticht tae the chair
Tae try an' stop the leakin' air
Shifty yersel' fae cheek tae cheek
Pray tae God it disnae reek

But aw yer efforts go assunder
Oot it comes like a clap o' thunder
Ricochets aroon the room
Michty me a sonic boom

God almichty it fairly reeks
Hope a huvnae shut ma breeks
Tae the bog a better scurry
Aw whit the hell its not ma wurry

A'body roon aboot me chokin'
Wan or twa are nearly bokin'
A'll feel better for a while
Cannae help but raise a smile

Wis him! A shout wi' accusin' glower
Alas too late, he's jist keeled ower
Ye dirty b'gger they shout and stare
A dinnae feel welcome ony mair

Where e'er ye be let yer wind gang free
Sounds like jist the job fur me
Whit a fuss at Rabbie's paerty
Ower the sake..........

O' wan wee faerty