Burn's Nicht

[equationgirl]

It's Burn's Night!

Is anybody doing anything?

I'm not a big haggis fan, and am not going out tonight to any formal Burn's Supper, but I thought I'd see if anybody else was.

[Hanfstaengl]

We're not celebrating the convertion either

[Callie]

Our canteen at work had a Burns night theme - haggis, neeps and tatties on the menu and various other Scottish foody stuff.

One lady was walking around asking people who St Burns was, what he had done and why were we celebrating him in our canteen :D

[Here we go]

I'm tucking into some haggis, neeps and tatties just now

[geminisnake]

One lady was walking around asking people who St Burns was, what he had done and why were we celebrating him in our canteen :D

It's not funny :rolleyes: It's not!!

I hope you put her straight and quoted ode to a moose to her :p

We went to a Burns type thing on Saturday night.

[foamy]

i have friends coming round for a burns nigh feast (its a tradition in our family :) )

however i couldnt find any of the gorgeous veggie haggis so its be postponed
:(

got the tatties and neeps all ready and have practised the address.

stupid veggie haggis-less london
:mad:

[Callie]

It's not funny :rolleyes: It's not!!

I hope you put her straight and quoted ode to a moose to her :p

We went to a Burns type thing on Saturday night.

to be fair I couldnt answer her queries! except that he did a bit of poetry :o I knew he wasn't a saint though :D (hes not is he? :D)

[geminisnake]

to be fair I couldnt answer her queries! except that he did a bit of poetry :o I knew he wasn't a saint though :D (hes not is he? :D)

No, he was not. He wrote some stories and poems and was a bloody excise man, amongst other things.

Not my favourite person tbh.
But this one I like(I can only quote the first verse though)

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou 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,
What 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 art no thy 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, compar'd wi' me;
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects dreaer!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!


Send her here to find out more :)

http://www.robertburns.org/

[weepiper]

Here's a wee modern 'reply' to Tam o' Shanter, by Matthew Fitt :)

Kate O'Shanter's Tale
by Matthew Fitt

Who'er this tale o' truth shall read,
Ilk man and mother's son take heed,
Whene'er tae drink ye are inclin'd
Or cutty sarks run in your mind,
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear -
Remember Tam O'Shanter's mare.

Ye
ay, ye
ah waant a wurd wi ye
juist poppt in, duid ye
oan the wey hame fae wurk, wur ye
juist poppt in
fur a wee blethir, wus it
a cheerie chinway, eh
a quick hiya boys tae the smithie an the millar, eh
an a wee hauf o hevvie juist
tae keep juist
tae keep ye gaun, lyke

ay
but juist the ane tho
ay juist the ane
an a wee ane, mind
juist the wee, wee, wee, weeist ane
an then ye'r awa hame
ay
sulky sullen dame an aa that ken
ay
gaitherin hur broos, sae seh is
ay, juist the ane
gaitherin stoarm, ken
nursin hur wrath, whit
ay, juist ane bit
ay, nae bathir
ay
oh, ay
well, dinnae geis it, Shanter
juist dinnae geis it

ye cam in heir
fowre in the bliddy moarnan
an ye wur buckled
cuildnae staun
cuildnae speik
haverin a load ay keech, sae ye wur
tellin us hou ye'd juist
goat bak fae a ceilidh wi the deevil
an hou come ye'd seen viv lumsden's belly button
a bletherin, blusterin, drunken blellum, sae ye ur
whit a state tae git intae
voamit stens
doon
the bak o yir jaikit
werrin sumbiddie else's schune
how cuild ye be werrin sumbiddie else's schune
an of coorse
yir knoab wis hingin oot
the tap ay yir breeks
nae schemm, huv ye
an sei if ye'v byn oot wi yon hoor
kirton jean again
sae help me
ah'll chap it aff
an ye hud tae be seik
aa owre
ma bran new, deep layered
haun-med bi crippilt weans in kilbarchan
tender pyle carpit
duidn't ye
whit a state

ye wur that pischt
that yir ain voamit
goat aff the flair
an ran ben tae the cludgie
an spewed its ring
ah dinna ken

fowre in the moarnan
ye cam in heir
duidnae waant yir tea, duid ye
(ah'v hud chips)
slavin away since six this moarnan
a ten myle hyke throu the snaa fur fyrewidd
fechtin aff wolfs an bears an lions
(ah'v hud chips)
slavin away
sooth o the boarder spanish meatballs
orange ginger
an tatties
(ah'v hud chips)
romanoff a la lila, wattir chestnuts
an custart
ah hud tae sen the bairns oot
tae bolivia fur the fukkin chestnuts
an ye cam in hier
but ah'v had chips
an a wee dona kebab

an juist whit
in the nemm o the wee manduid ye dae tae the horse
ma best brawest cuddie, puir meg
that wis the tocher aff ma ain faithir
ye'v went an broke it
ye'r an eejit shanter
a fukkin eejit
ah dinna ken whit ye wur playin at
bit ye better fynn that tail
pronto

Who'er this tale o' truth shall read,
Ilk man and mother's son take heed,
Whene'er tae drink you are inclin'd
Or cutty sarks run in your mind,
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear -
Remember, remember, remember whit happent tae ma fukkin horse."

[pilchardman]

Nine Inch Will Please a Lady
(Robert Burns)

Come rede me dame, come tell me dame,
My dame come tell me truly,
What length o' graith when weel ca'd hame
Will sair a woman duly?"
The carlin clew her wanton tail,
Her wanton tail sae ready,
"l learn'd a sang in Annandale,
Nine inch will please a lady."

"But for a koontrie cunt like mine,
In sooth we're not sae gentle;
We'll tak tway thumb-bread to the nine,
And that is a sonsy pintle.
Oh, Leeze me on, my Charlie lad,
I'll ne'er forget my Charlie,
Tway roaring handfuls and a daud
He nidged it in fu' rarely."

But wear fa' the laithron doup
And may it ne'er be thriving,
It's not the length that makes me loup
But it's the double drivin.
Come nidge me Tom, come nidge me Tom
Come nidge me, o'er the nyvel
Come lowse an lug your battering ram
And thrash him at my gyvel!

[The Boy]

Didn't do anything do anything to celebrate except turn up for work on time - second time I've managed that in two weeks :o

Didn't even realise it was Burns night until I pointed out for the third time that we had noi haggis other than the tinned stuff, and a customer came in looking for turnip/swede and we had none. Nor did the Gorgie store. Or Shandwick Place :eek: .

The Penny dropped around about then

[rich!]

Well, we managed it in London.

If you can call "dragging work to Wetherspoons" and engaging in their Burns Night offers managing it, that is.

(I have a soft spot for Wetherspoons on Burns Night. I pulled a Scot there and then once, at a time in my life I really needed it. Cheers, Rabbie!)

[inflatable jesus]

I really like the Matthew Fitt one weepiper.

Now, generally I would just post the dirtiest Burns Poem I can find, but since Pilchardman has already taken the smut road, I'll just go for the nice (if a little cliched one).


O MY Luve 's like a red, red rose
That 's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve 's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune!

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

[pilchardman]

INow, generally I would just post the dirtiest Burns Poem I can find, but since Pilchardman has already taken the smut road, I'll just go for the nice (if a little cliched one)..Sorry, mate.

I like the nice ones, too. :)

[bertifrew]

One of my favourate Burns compos. Macphersons rant:

Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong,
The wretch's destinie!
M'Pherson's time will not be long
On yonder gallows-tree.

Chorus.-Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,
Sae dauntingly gaed he;
He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round,
Below the gallows-tree.

O, what is death but parting breath?
On many a bloody plain
I've dared his face, and in this place
I scorn him yet again!
Sae rantingly, &c.

Untie these bands from off my hands,
And bring me to my sword;
And there's no a man in all Scotland
But I'll brave him at a word.
Sae rantingly, &c.

I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife;
I die by treacherie:
It burns my heart I must depart,
And not avenged be.
Sae rantingly, &c.

Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright,
And all beneath the sky!
May coward shame distain his name,
The wretch that dares not die!
Sae rantingly, &c.

[dessiato]

Did the haggis thing, with a nice 10yr old Islay malt, the neeps and the tatties.
Can you get Haggis is Portugal?

[Dilzybhoy]

No wonder the cunt had so many failed farms. He should have been ploughing the field instead of talking shite to field mice.
Lazy cunt. :(


Ideal for customs and excise. ;)

[nino_savatte]

Had a belated Burns nicht dinner on Saturday but left all my poems at home. :(