Eggplant.place

12d

Around #BurnsNight our website is the most popular poetry website in the world. 100,000+ hits on Address To A Haggis page alone. (Extra bandwidth required).

Our website has resources for anyone planning a #haggis #whisky #poetry happening + much more.

www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/burns-night/

Robert Burns painted in a modernist style by Greg Moodie

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7d

Grant me, indulgent Heaven, that I may live,
To see the miscreants feel the pains they give;
Deal Freedom’s sacred treasures free as air,
Till Slave and Despot be but things that were.

—Robert Burns, “Lines Inscribed in a Lady’s Pocket Almanac”

#Scottish #literature #RobertBurns #BurnsNight #poem #poetry #18thcentury #liberty #justice #freedom

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9d

Atween November’s end and noo
there’s really nithin else tae do
but climb inside a brindlet coo
and dream o Spring,
fur Winter’s decked hur breist and broo
wi icy bling…

—W.N. Herbert, “Rabbie, Rabbie, Burning Bright”
published in OMNESIA (Remix) (Bloodaxe Books, 2013)

Warming up for Burns Night …

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/rabbie-rabbie-burning-bright/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #RobertBurns #BurnsNight #StandardHabbie #winter

Rabbie, Rabbie, Burning Bright
by W. N. Herbert

Atween November’s end and noo
there’s really nithin else tae do
but climb inside a brindlet coo
and dream o Spring,
fur Winter’s decked hur breist and broo
wi icy bling.

It feels like, oan St Andrae’s nicht,
thi sun went oot and gote sae ticht
he endit up in a braw fire fecht
wi some wee comet –
noo he’s layin low wi his punched-oot licht
aa rimmed wi vomit.

We too hae strachilt lik The Bruce
and hacked up turkey, duck and goose;
and let aa resolution loose
oan Hogmanay,
but waddle noo frae wark tae hoose
lyk dogs they spayed.

ALT

Each year fails tae begin thi same:
fae dregs o Daft Deys debt comes hame
and we gaither in depression’s wame
aa duty-crossed –
but Burns’s birthday is a flame
set tae Defrost.

Ye dinna need tae be Confucius
tae ken, if Dullness wad confuse us,
ye caa ‘Respite! Let’s aa get stocious –
And dinna nag us.
Grant us that globe of spice, thi luscious
Delight caaed “haggis”!’

That truffle o the North must be
dug frae the depths o January,
but cannae pass oor lips, nor we
cross Limbo’s border –
unless that passport, Poetry,
be quite in order.

Sae thi daurkest deys o thi haill damn year
can dawn in yawns baith dreich an drear –
sae thi Taxman’s axe is at wir ear
fur his Returns?
We Scots sall neither dreid nor fear
but read wir Burns.

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9d

May Liberty meet wi’ success!
May Prudence protect her frae evil!
May tyrants and tyranny tine i’ the mist,
And wander their way to the devil!

—Robert Burns, “Here’s a Health to them that’s awa” (c. 1792)

A poem In advance of Burns Night

https://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/robertburns/works/heres_a_health_to_them_thats_awa/

#Scottish #literature #18thcentury #RobertBurns #BurnsNight #poem #poetry #liberty #tyranny

Here's a health to them that's awa
Robert Burns

Here's a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to them that's awa;
And wha winna wish gude luck to our cause,
May never gude luck be their fa'!
It's gude to be merry and wise,
It's gude to be honest and true;
It's gude to support Caledonia's cause,
And bide by the buff and the blue.

Here's a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to Charlie, the chief o' the clan,
Altho' that his band be sma'!
May Liberty meet wi' success!
May Prudence protect her frae evil!
May tyrants and tyranny tine i' the mist,
And wander their way to the devil!

Here's a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to them that's awa;
Here's a health to Tammie, the Norlan' laddie,
That lives at the lug o' the law!
Here's freedom to them that wad read,
Here's freedom to them that wad write!
There's nane ever fear'd that the truth should be heard,
But they whom the truth wad indite.

Here's a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to them that's awa;
Here's chieftain M'Leod, a chieftain worth gowd,
Tho' bred amang mountains o' snaw;
Here's friends on baith sides o' the Forth,
And friends on baith sides o' the Tweed;
And wha wad betray old Albion's right,
May they never eat of her bread!

ALT

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8d

“On the dirt roads of Arkansas I first met Robert Burns…”

Currently on the BBC iPlayer: writer, poet, & activist Dr Maya Angelou goes on a pilgrimage to the home of Robert Burns (originally broadcast in 1996 to mark the bicentenary of Burns’s death)

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m0013vcs

#Scottish #literature #RobertBurns #MayaAngelou #BurnsNight #poetry #romanticism #18thcentury

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8d

I murder hate by flood or field,
Tho’ glory's name may screen us;
In wars at home I’ll spend my blood—
Life-giving wars of Venus.
The deities that I adore
Are social Peace and Plenty;
I’m better pleas’d to make one more,
Than be the death of twenty…

—Robert Burns, “I Murder Hate”

#Scottish #literature #RobertBurns #BurnsNight #poetry #romanticism #18thcentury

I Murder Hate
Robert Burns

I murder hate by flood or field,
Tho’ glory’s name may screen us;
In wars at home I’ll spend my blood—
Life-giving wars of Venus.
The deities that I adore
Are social Peace and Plenty;
I’m better pleas’d to make one more,
Than be the death of twenty.

I would not die like Socrates,
For all the fuss of Plato;
Nor would I with Leonidas,
Nor yet would I with Cato:
The zealots of the Church and State
Shall ne’er my mortal foes be;
But let me have bold Zimri’s fate,
Within the arms of Cozbi!

ALT

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8d

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee…

—Robert Burns
published in SELECTED POEMS & SONGS (OUP, 2013)

https://global.oup.com/academic/product/selected-poems-and-songs-9780199682324

#Scottish #literature #RobertBurns #BurnsNight #poetry #romanticism #18thcentury #song #folksong #lovesong

Robert Burns
“Ae Fond Kiss”

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.
Who shall say that fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu’ twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.

I'll ne’er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy;
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love forever.
Had we never lov’d sae kindly,
Had we never lov’d sae blindly,
Never met—or never parted—
We had ne’er been broken-hearted.

Fare thou weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, Enjoyment, Love, and Pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, Alas! for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.

ALT

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8d

Dear Robert Burns,

You skipped the big town streets just like I done, you ducked the crosstown cop just like I ducked, you dodged behind a beanpole to beat the bigtime dick and you very seldom stopped off in any big city where the rigged corn wasn’t drying nor the hot vine didn’t help you do your talking…

“To That Man Robert Burns”
—Woody Guthrie, June 9, 1947
Published in Woody Guthrie, Born To Win (Macmillan, 1965)

#Scottish #literature #RobertBurns #BurnsNight #WoodyGuthrie

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8d

From 2020 – Prof Kirsteen McCue, Prof Nigel Leask, & Dr Craig Lamont discuss the importance of the Kilmarnock edition of POEMS, CHIEFLY IN THE SCOTTISH DIALECT for Burns, & the significance of the copy of the volume donated by Craig Sharp to Glasgow University’s Centre for Robert Burns Studies

@litstudies

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1LzFCI1bNs&feature=youtu.be

#Scottish #literature #RobertBurns #BurnsNight #poetry #romanticism #18thcentury #BookHistory

Edited 8d ago

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8d

My Son, these maxims make a rule,
An’ lump them aye thegither;
The Rigid Righteous is a fool,
The Rigid Wise anither…

—Robert Burns, “Address to the Unco Guid, or the Ridgidly Righteous”

#Scottish #literature #RobertBurns #BurnsNight #poem #poetry #18thcentury #humour

Address to the Unco Guid, or the Ridgidly Righteous
Robert Burns

My Son, these maxims make a rule,
An’ lump them aye thegither;
The Rigid Righteous is a fool,
The Rigid Wise anither:
The cleanest corn that ere was dight
May hae some pyles o’ caff in;
So ne’er a fellow-creature slight
For random fits o’ daffin.
—Solomon, Eccles. 7. 16

O ye wha are sae guid yoursel’,
Sae pious and sae holy,
Ye’ve nought to do but mark and tell
Your neibours’ fauts and folly!
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
Supplied wi’ store o’ water;
The heaped happer’s ebbing still,
An’ still the clap plays clatter.

Hear me, ye venerable core,
As counsel for poor mortals
That frequent pass douce Wisdom’s door
For glaikit Folly’s portals:
I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,
Would here propone defences—
Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes,
Their failings and mischances.

Ye see your state wi’ theirs compared,
And shudder at the niffer;
But cast a moment’s fair regard,
What maks the mighty differ;
Discount what scant occasion gave,
That purity ye pride in;
And (what’s aft mair than a’ the lave),
Your better art o’ hidin.

Think, when your castigated pulse
Gies now and then a wallop!
What ragings must his veins convulse,
That still eternal gallop!
Wi’ wind and tide fair i’ your tail,
Right on ye scud your sea-way;
But in the teeth o’ baith to sail,
It maks a unco lee-way.

ALT

See Social Life and Glee sit down,
All joyous and unthinking,
Till, quite transmugrified, they’re grown
Debauchery and Drinking:
O would they stay to calculate
Th’ eternal consequences;
Or your more dreaded hell to state,
Damnation of expenses!

Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames,
Tied up in godly laces,
Before ye gie poor Frailty names,
Suppose a change o’ cases;
A dear-lov’d lad, convenience snug,
A treach’rous inclination—
But let me whisper i’ your lug,
Ye’re aiblins nae temptation.

Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler sister woman;
Tho’ they may gang a kennin wrang,
To step aside is human: ‍‍
One point must still be greatly dark,—
The moving Why they do it;‍‍
And just as lamely can ye mark,
How far perhaps they rue it.

Who made the heart, ’tis He alone
Decidedly can try us;
He knows each chord, its various tone,
Each spring, its various bias:
Then at the balance let’s be mute,
We never can adjust it;
What’s done we partly may compute,
But know not what’s resisted.

ALT

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8d

O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us
An’ foolish notion:
What airs in dress an’ gait wad lea’e us,
And ev’n Devotion!

—Robert Burns, “To a Louse”
from Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect: The Luath Kilmarnock Edition, illustrated by Bob Dewar

https://luath.co.uk/products/poems-chiefly-in-the-scottish-dialect?variant=42807652581526

#Scottish #literature #RobertBurns #BurnsNight #poem #poetry #18thcentury #humour

To a Louse, On Seeing one on a Lady’s Bonnet at Church
Robert Burns

Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlan ferlie!
Your impudence protects you sairly:
I canna say but ye strunt rarely,
Owre gawze and lace;
Tho’ faith, I fear ye dine but sparely,
On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepan, blastet wonner,
Detested, shunn’d, by saunt an’ sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her,
Sae fine a Lady!
Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner,
On some poor body.

Swith, in some beggar’s haffet squattle;
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle,
Wi’ ither kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Whare horn nor bane ne’er daur unsettle,
Your thick plantations.

ALT

Now haud you there, ye’re out o’ sight,
Below the fatt’rels, snug and tight,
Na faith ye yet! ye’ll no be right,
Till ye’ve got on it,
The vera topmost, towrin height
O’ Miss’s bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump an’ gray as onie grozet:
O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
Or fell, red smeddum,
I’d gie you sic a hearty dose o’t,
Wad dress your droddum!

I wad na been surpriz’d to spy
You on an auld wife’s flainen toy;
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On ’s wylecoat;
But Miss’s fine Lunardi, fye!
How daur ye do ’t?

ALT

O Jenny dinna toss your head,
An’ set your beauties a’ abread!
Ye little ken what cursed speed
The blastie’s makin!
Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin!

O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us
An’ foolish notion:
What airs in dress an’ gait wad lea’e us,
And ev’n Devotion!

ALT

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8d

Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an’ a’ that;
The coward slave—we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Our toils obscure an’ a’ that,
The rank is but the guinea’s stamp,
The Man’s the gowd for a’ that.

—Robert Burns

https://poets.org/poem/mans-man

#Scottish #literature #RobertBurns #BurnsNight #poem #poetry #18thcentury #equality

A Man’s a Man for a’ That
Robert Burns

Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an’ a’ that;
The coward slave—we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Our toils obscure an’ a’ that,
The rank is but the guinea’s stamp,
The Man’s the gowd for a’ that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an’ a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man’s a Man for a’ that:
For a’ that, and a’ that,
Their tinsel show, an’ a’ that;
The honest man, tho’ e’er sae poor,
Is king o’ men for a’ that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca’d a lord,
Wha struts, an’ stares, an’ a’ that;
Tho’ hundreds worship at his word,
He’s but a coof for a’ that:
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
His ribband, star, an’ a’ that:
The man o’ independent mind
He looks an’ laughs at a’ that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that;
But an honest man’s aboon his might—
Guid faith, he maunna fa’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Their dignities an’ a’ that;
The pith o’ sense, an’ pride o’ worth,
Are higher rank than a’ that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a’ that,
That Sense and Worth, o’er a’ the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an’ a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
It’s coming yet for a’ that,
That Man to Man, the world o’er,
Shall brothers be for a’ that.

ALT

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8d

Ellisland, 1791

Dear Sir:

Thou eunuch of language; thou Englishman, who never was south the Tweed; thou servile echo of fashionable barbarisms; thou quack, vending the nostrums of empirical elocution; thou marriage-maker between vowels and consonants, on the Gretna-green of caprice…

—Robert Burns, Letter to a critic
via @lettersofnote

https://news.lettersofnote.com/p/thou-pickle-herring-in-the-puppet

#Scottish #literature #RobertBurns #BurnsNight #18thcentury #LettersofNote #correspondence #letters #critics #insults