Surprised I hadn’t seen it on the board anywhere, sorry if I missed it.
It’s not St. Patrick’s Day, but you can’t blame them for trying.
Have fun!
A wee bit o’ Robbie, then, since it’s too late for a Burns Supper:
_Critics! Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame.
O wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursel’s as others see us.
I’ll be merry and free, I’ll be sad for nae-body;
If nae-body cares for me, I’ll care for nae-body.
Some rhyme a neebor’s name to lash;
Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu’ cash;
Some rhyme to court the country clash,
An’ raise a din;
For me, an aim I never fash;
I rhyme for fun.
Auld Nature swears the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O;
Her ‘prentice han’ she tried on man,
And then she made the lasses, O!
There’s some are fou o’ love divine, There’s some are fou’ o’ brandy.
The best laid schemes o’ mice and men
Gang aft a-gley;
And leave us naught but grief and pain
For promised joy.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o’ lang syne?
My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer.
Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler sister woman;
Though they may gang a’ kennin’ wrang
To step aside is human._
Actually I’d rather have a Robbie Burns Day; he was much more eloquent than St. Paddy. And the arrival of St. Paddy wasn’t exactly the best day for the Tuatha de Danann, the druids, and the keepers of the old ways.
Actually maybe we should just move Valentines Day up and call it Robbie Burns Day. And yet, he did write more than just love poems…
A verse for the times:
The war’ly race may riches chase,
An’ riches still may fly them, O;
An’ tho’ at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, O.
My memory is of Burns nights.
Recitations in Lallans, haggis and turnips and lots of scotch. I always celebrated with my Scottish friends when I lived in England but the occasion doesn’t seem to be celebrated in Australia.
I always feel conflicted at this time of the year because while my family name is Burns and I have a brother named Robert, we carry that name only because my grandfather, who was born and raised in Dublin as Gerald Byrne, changed it to Burns when he became a US citizen, who knows why and he’s not around anywhere to ask. But this type of confusion must be routine in the Irish government because they issued me an Irish passport despite the change.
Mike Burns (Byrne)
Honest Poverty
(An’ A’ that)
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, geeniz
The man’s the gowd for a’ that.
What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hodden grey, an’ a’ that.
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine
A man’s a man for a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ 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 cuif’ for a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
His ribband, star, an’ a’ that,
The man o’ independent mind,
He looks and laughs at a’ that.
A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that!
But an honest man’s aboons his micht?
Guid faith, he mauna 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 comin’ yet for a’ that,
That man to man the world o’er
Shall brothers be for a’ that.
Its not too late. I’m running my own Burn’s Night in for a few friends this Saturday. Not too formal due to lack of dining table ( decorating etc) but will have Cullin Skank, Haggis ( Normal and Vegi), Neeps and Tatties, drop scones and lots of good beer and decent whisky. Hoping for a good night.
J 
I played for a Burns supper last Friday night(with the pipe band). We do that job every year. Our band always starts the thing with about 30 minutes of pipes and drums. The food was suprisingly good this time and after all the “readings” and eats a local ITM group- Sighean- entertained. They were good, but I was disapointed since their piper/whistler did not make it.
*Cough. Well, er, hope you all enjoy the, uh, whiskey.
And welcome aboard, j!