Rabbie Burns Day.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader has been so busy of late that he just now realized that today is Robert Burns day. As he just now realized the day, he’s not made plans. It is unlikely that he will have a big Burns Supper. It is likely, however, that he will consume some of the water of life (as it were).

After dinner (whatever that may be) he will crack open his book of Burns’ poetry and read some to the family. He may read this particularly well-known Burns poem (which his daughters particularly liked last year).

To A Mouse (1785)

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie,
Oh, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I was be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!

II

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!

III

I doubt na, whyles, 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,
And never miss’t!

IV

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its 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!

V

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.

VI

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!

VII

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft a-gley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

VIII

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 cannot see,
I guess an’ fear!

Your Maximum Leader suspects he’ll also get out the kilt and wear it to dinner. Perhaps he’ll even post a photo if there is a clamor to see your Maximum Leader’s knees.

Carry on.

2 Comments »
Eric said:

… dude, you are The Man….. I have always loved the first stanza of “To a Mouse”…..



Haggis McHaggis said:

OH Happy Burns day to all my fellow Scot’s!

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.



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