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Rabbie Burns Day

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader was just saying how there were too many things to celebrate going on this past weekend. One of them was Robert Burns Day (which was yesterday). Just like Lunar New Year sneaking up on him, this one snuck up on him too. Sure he got the little reminders that he sets for interesting cultural remembrances like Robert Burns Day. But he disregarded them… So… He didn’t celebrate the great day. Sadly, no one invited him to a Burns Dinner either…

While your Maximum Leader didn’t have a haggis last night, he did have lamb (which if it had been allowed to grow up would have become a sheep suitable for making into haggis). He didn’t read any Burns poetry either.

As sad as it might be that there wasn’t formal celebrating, the day did not pass unnoticed by your Maximum Leader’s loyal readers…

One “Haggis McHaggis” posted a wee little poem for your Maximum Leader’s edification at last year’s Burns Day post. It made your Maximum Leader chuckle so that he feels he must repost it here.

Tae A Fart

Oh what a sleekit horrible beastie
Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie
As ye sit doon amongst yer kin
There sterts tae stir an enormous win’

The neeps an’ tatties an’ mushy peas
Stert workin’ like a gentle breeze
But soon the puddin’ wi’ the sonsie face
Will have ye blawin’ a’ ower the place.

Nae matter whit the hell ye dae
A’body’s gonnae hae tae pay
Even if ye try tae stifle
It’s like a bullet oot o’ a rifle

Haud yer bum tight tae the chair
Tae try an’ stop the leakin’ air
Shift yersel fae cheek tae cheek
Pray tae God it disnae reek.

But aw yer efforts gan asunder
Oot it comes like a clap o’ thunder
Ricochets aroon’ the room
Michty me! A sonic boom

God Almichty, it fairly reeks!
Hope I huvnae s**t ma breeks!
Tae the bog ah’d better scurry,
Ach, whit the hell, it’s no ma worry.

A’body roon aboot me chokin’
Yin or twa were nearly boakin’
I’ll feel better for a while
Cannae help but raise a smile.

Wis him! I shout with accusin’ glower,
Alas! Too late! He’s just keeled ower
Ye dirty bugger, they shout and stare
A didnae feel welcome ony mair

Where e’r ye be let yer wind gan free
Sounds like just the job for me
Whit a fuss at Rabbie’s party
Ower the sake o’ one wee farty.

That there is funny. Your Maximum Leader is curious to learn which of his readers might be “Haggis McHaggis.” If you would like to fess up - your secret is safe with your Maximum Leader…

Carry on.

4 Comments »
Eric said:

… outstanding, big guy…… be sure to check out Elisson’s latest as well….. it is a keeper…..



maggie said:

Could not get this out in time for Burns’ Day but what a treat anyway!

Winter: A Dirge
~Robert Burns (1781)

The wintry west extends his blast,
And hail and rain does blaw;
Or the stormy north sends driving forth
The blinding sleet and snaw:
While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down,
And roars frae bank to brae;
And bird and beast in covert rest,
And pass the heartless day.

“The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast,”
The joyless winter day
Let others fear, to me more dear
Than all the pride of May:
The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul,
My griefs it seems to join;
The leafless trees my fancy please,
Their fate resembles mine!

Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme
These woes of mine fulfil,
Here firm I rest; they must be best,
Because they are Thy will!
Then all I want—O do Thou grant
This one request of mine!—
Since to enjoy Thou dost deny,
Assist me to resign.



Haggis McHaggis said:

The Lassies - Part 1

Dear Freen’s and Cronies, staunch an’ true
It’s time yince mair that we review
Oor ties wi’ Rabbie maist sincere
His anniversary is here
An’ so the nicht we a’ acclaim
The son that brocht auld Scotia fame
Whae’s wondrous rare poetic lore
Is known tae man the world o’er
We’ve every reason tae be prood
As patriotic Scotsmen should
For there he staun’s an’ there he stays
Supreme tae a’ that he surveys
If just ane bard we had tae choose
There’s nane could ever lace his shoes!

But my specific task the nicht
Is no’ tae gild his star sae bricht
But raither tae enthuse a wee
On thae sae dear tae you an’ me
An’ so wi’ joy I rise tae praise
The winsome lasses in oor gaze
I’m deeply conscious o’ the fact
This ca’s for mair than usual tact
For tho’ I live in wedded bliss
The wife micht get tae hear o’ this
An’ that’s a thing I wouldna’ relish
Her tongue at times is something awful!
But ne’ertheless, ere I’ve begun
There is a duty tae be done

I wonder whit oor Rab would say
Aboot the lasses o’ today
I wonder whit his thochts would be
If oor teenagers he could see
Wi’ denim troosers tinted hair
An’ thae ticht jerseys that they wear
Wi’ creepy shoes that look like clugs
An’ curtain rings hung frae their lugs
He wouldna’ be inclined tae boast
He’d probably gi’e up the ghost!

Their lovely eylids painted blue
Or camouflaged wi’ ither hue
Present a weird-like apparition
Like someone no’ in sound condition
Their black eyelashes, long an’ sleek
Black-leaded brush’d each day o’th week
An’ jist as sure as eggs are eggs
They’re sticking oot like spider’s legs
The pencil marks sae often seen
Richt in the corners o’ their een
Tho’ meant tae make their optics braw
Are like the footmarks o’ a craw!
Sheer vandalism I would say
Tae ‘libel’ nature in this way
But jist in case there’s ony doubt
I’m mebbe jist the odd-man out

Breathes there a man that daurs tae grouse
Aboot the antics o’ his spouse?
Ignorin’ a’ the things he’d miss
If in the state o’ single bliss
Nae wife tae help in his concerns
An’ take command o’ a’ he earns
Tae ha’e the purse-strings in her feel
An’ keep him on a even keel
Tae buy the food an’ pay the rent
An’ try tae live in sweet content
She finds the goin’ raither tough
His wages never seem enough



Haggis McHaggis said:

The Lassies - Part 2

But ne’ertheless, whenere she can
She recompasses her guid man
An’ gi’es him back if things go well
5p. tae squander on himsel’

When they go on a shoppin’ spree
He staun’s ootside far a’ tae see
A meek an’ inoffensive soul
Completely under her control
An’ there he waits in rigid pose
Afraid tae blink or blow his nose
An yearns for her to reappear
Tae help her with her shoppin’ gear

In company he’s aye that deep
He hardly ever says a cheep
An’ seldom does he make a crack
In case she’s staun’in at his back
But if you’re sceptic o’ his mate
Observe the one convincin’ trait
His haun’s are always lily white
Frae washin’ dishes every night

Of course, we’re in a different age
Frae that when Rabbie held the stage
Men were the maisters in his day
An’ lasses then were made obey
But noo’ we’re in a different rut
The shoe is on the ither fut

They smoke oor fags, an’ drink oor haufs
An’ wear oor breeks like they were toffs
They’re filling jobs as fast they can
Yince held exclusively by Man
In fact, unlike the days of yore
The lasses noo’ are takin’ o’er

Despite they keep us in oor places
We seldom kick agin the traces
Though words o’ wrath are sometimes muttered
We ken whit side oor bread is buttered!
We canna’ but admire their ways
Sic intuition merits praise
Though Man may think he’s unco smairt
They’re aye that wee bit mair alert
And are the brains behind the scenes
When ends need justify the means

The tender charms that they bestow
Sets mony a puir lad’s he’rt aglow
An’ a’ their passions, warm an’ real
Ha’e muckle influence on a chiel
Their beauty. infinite an’ rare
Like precious stones beyond compare
A heritage they proodly own
‘Tis theirs for keeps an’ theirs alone

So let us pay oor best respects
A tribute tae the ither sex
A token tae the female masses
A deed o’ praise tae a’ the lasses
So, on your feet noo’ gentlemen
An’ chairge your glasses yince again
There’s no a minute tae be lost
Afore ye join me in this toast

Then raise your glasses high an’ clink
Tae a’ the maidens let us drink
Whae’s charm and beauty nane surpasses
Gentlemen Tae the lasses



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