Robert Burns' Birthday

[dreamy]

On January 25th is Robert Burns' birthday. He was a poet, balladeer and is Scotland's favourite son. Each year on January 25, the great man's presumed birthday, Scots everywhere take time out to honour a national icon. Whether it's a full-blown Burns Supper or a quiet night of reading poetry, Burns Night is a night for all Scots.

Almost very kid will remember to have learnt this poem for this sprcial occasion:

Tom O' Shanter

When chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neibors, neibors, meet;
As market days are wearing late,
And folk begin to tak the gate,
While we sit bousing at the nappy,
An' getting fou and unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter,
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter:
(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonie lasses).

O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise,
As taen thy ain wife Kate's advice!
She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,
A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;
That frae November till October,
Ae market-day thou was na sober;
That ilka melder wi' the Miller,
Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;
That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on
The Smith and thee gat roarin' fou on;
That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday,
Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday,
She prophesied that late or soon,
Thou wad be found, deep drown'd in Doon,
Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk,
By Alloway's auld, haunted kirk.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,
To think how mony counsels sweet,
How mony lengthen'd, sage advices,
The husband frae the wife despises!

But to our tale: Ae market night,
Tam had got planted unco right,
Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,
Wi reaming sAats, that drank divinely;
And at his elbow, Souter Johnie,
His ancient, trusty, drougthy crony:
Tam lo'ed him like a very brither;
They had been fou for weeks thegither.
The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter;
And aye the ale was growing better:
The Landlady and Tam grew gracious,
Wi' favours secret, sweet, and precious:
The Souter tauld his queerest stories;
The Landlord's laugh was ready chorus:
The storm without might rair and rustle,
Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.

Care, mad to see a man sae happy,
E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy.
As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure,
The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure:
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious!

But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white-then melts for ever;
Or like the Borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the Rainbow's lovely form
Evanishing amid the storm. -
Nae man can tether Time nor Tide,
The hour approaches Tam maun ride;
That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane,
That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;
And sic a night he taks the road in,
As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.

The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;
The rattling showers rose on the blast;
The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd;
Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd:
That night, a child might understand,
The deil had business on his hand.

Weel-mounted on his grey mare, Meg,
A better never lifted leg,
Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire,
Despising wind, and rain, and fire;
Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet,
Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet,
Whiles glow'rin round wi' prudent cares,
Lest bogles catch him unawares;
Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,
Where ghaists and houlets nightly cry.

By this time he was cross the ford,
Where in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;
And past the birks and meikle stane,
Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane;
And thro' the whins, and by the cairn,
Where hunters fand the murder'd bairn;
And near the thorn, aboon the well,
Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel'.
Before him Doon pours all his floods,
The doubling storm roars thro' the woods,
The lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Near and more near the thunders roll,
When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,
Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze,
Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing,
And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!
What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil;
Wi' usquabae, we'll face the devil!
The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle,
Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle,
But Maggie stood, right sair astonish'd,
Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd,
She ventur'd forward on the light;
And, wow! Tam saw an unco sight!

Warlocks and witches in a dance:
Nae cotillon, brent new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,
Put life and mettle in their heels.
A winnock-bunker in the east,
There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;
A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,
To gie them music was his charge:
He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl,
Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. -
Coffins stood round, like open presses,
That shaw'd the Dead in their last dresses;
And (by some devilish cantraip sleight)
Each in its cauld hand held a light.

By which heroic Tam was able
To note upon the haly table,
A murderer's banes, in gibbet-airns;
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristened bairns;
A thief, new-cutted frae a rape,
Wi' his last gasp his gabudid gape;
Five tomahawks, wi' blude red-rusted:
Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted;
A garter which a babe had strangled:
A knife, a father's throat had mangled.
Whom his ain son of life bereft,
The grey-hairs yet stack to the heft;
Wi' mair of horrible and awfu',
Which even to name wad be unlawfu'.

As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious;
The Piper loud and louder blew,
The dancers quick and quicker flew,
They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit,
Till ilka carlin swat and reekit,
And coost her duddies to the wark,
And linkit at it in her sark!

Now Tam, O Tam! had they been queans,
A' plump and strapping in their teens!
Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flainen,
Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linen!-
Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair,
That ance were plush o' guid blue hair,
I wad hae gien them off my hurdies,
For ae blink o' the bonie burdies!
But wither'd beldams, auld and droll,
Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal,
Louping an' flinging on a crummock.
I wonder did na turn thy stomach.

But Tam kent what was what fu' brawlie:
There was ae winsome wench and waulie
That night enlisted in the core,
Lang after ken'd on Carrick shore;
(For mony a beast to dead she shot,
And perish'd mony a bonie boat,
And shook baith meikle corn and bear,
And kept the country-side in fear);
Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn,
That while a lassie she had worn,
In longitude tho' sorely scanty,
It was her best, and she was vauntie.
Ah! little ken'd thy reverend grannie,
That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
Wi twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches),
Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches!

But here my Muse her wing maun cour,
Sic flights are far beyond her power;
To sing how Nannie lap and flang,
(A souple jade she was and strang),
And how Tam stood, like ane bewithc'd,
And thought his very een enrich'd:
Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain,
And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main:
Till first ae caper, syne anither,
Tam tint his reason a thegither,
And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!"
And in an instant all was dark:
And scarcely had he Maggie rallied.
When out the hellish legion sallied.

As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,
When plundering herds assail their byke;
As open pussie's mortal foes,
When, pop! she starts before their nose;
As eager runs the market-crowd,
When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud;
So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
Wi' mony an eldritch skreich and hollow.

Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin!
In hell, they'll roast thee like a herrin!
In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin!
Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!
Now, do thy speedy-utmost, Meg,
And win the key-stone o' the brig;
There, at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they dare na cross.
But ere the keystane she could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake!
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;
But little wist she Maggie's mettle!
Ae spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind her ain grey tail:
The carlin claught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,
Ilk man and mother's son, take heed:
Whene'er to Drink you are inclin'd,
Or Cutty-sarks rin in your mind,
Think ye may buy the joys o'er dear;
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.

[dreamy]

The Supper

The Burns Supper is an institution of Scottish life, a night to celebrate the life and genius of the national Bard. Suppers can be everything from an informal gathering of friends to a huge, formal dinner full of pomp and circumstance. This running order covers all the key elements you need to plan and structure a Burns Supper that suits your intentions.

The running order for a traditional Burns Supper

Piping in the guests

A big-time Burns Night calls for a piper to welcome guests. If you don't want all that baggage, some traditional music will do nicely. For more formal events, the audience should stand to welcome arriving guests: the piper plays until the High Table is ready to be seated, at which point a round of applause is due.

Chairman's welcome

The Chairman warmly welcomes the assembled guests.

The Selkirk Grace

A short but important prayer to usher in the meal with a reading of The Selkirk Grace.

Also known as 'Burns's Grace at Kirkcudbright.' Although the text is often printed in English, it is usually recited in Scots.

Piping the Haggis

Guests should normally stand to welcome the dinner's star attraction, which should be delivered on a silver platter by a procession consisting of the chef, the piper and the person who will address the Haggis. A whisky-bearer should also arrive to ensure the toasts are well lubricated.
During the procession, guests clap in time to the music until the Haggis reaches its destination at the table. The music stops and everyone is seated in anticipation of the address "To a Haggis".

Address to the Haggis

The honoured reader now seizes their moment of glory by offering a fluent and entertaining rendition of "To a Haggis". The reader should have their knife poised at the ready. On cue ("His knife see Rustic-labour dight"), they cut the casing along its length, making sure to spill out some of the tasty gore within ("trenching its gushing entrails").

Warning: it is wise to have a small cut made in the haggis skin before it is piped in. Instances are recorded of top table guests being scalded by flying pieces of haggis when enthusiastic reciters omitted this precaution!

The recital ends with the reader raising the Haggis in triumph during the final line ("Gie her a Haggis!"), which the audience greets with rapturous applause.

Toast to the Haggis

Prompted by the speaker, the audience now joins in the toast to the Haggis. Raise a glass and shout: "The Haggis!" Then it's time to serve the main course with its traditional companions, neeps and tatties. In larger events, the piper leads a procession carrying the opened Haggis out to the kitchen for serving; audience members should clap as the procession departs.

The meal

Dinner is served with some suitable background music. The sumptuous Bill o' Fare includes traditional cock-a-leekie soup before the main course ("Haggis wi' bashit neeps an' champit tatties"), followed by a sweet course of "clootie dumplin" (a pudding prepared in a linen cloth or cloot) or "Typsy Laird" (a Scottish sherry trifle).
Afterwards comes the cheese board, served with bannocks (traditional oat-cakes) and tea/coffee/malt whisky.
Variations do exist: beef lovers can serve the haggis, neeps and tatties as a starter with roast beef or steak pie as the main dish. Vegetarians can of course choose vegetarian haggis, while vegaquarians could opt for a seafood main course such as Cullen Skink.

The drink

Liberal lashings of wine or ale should be served with dinner and it's often customary to douse the Haggis with a "wee splash of whisky sauce", which, with true Scottish understatement, is whisky neat.
After the meal, it's time for connoisseurs to compare notes on the wonderful selection of malts served by the generous host.

The first entertainment

The nervous first entertainer follows immediately after the meal. Often it will be a singer or musician performing Burns songs such as "My Luve is Like a Red Red Rose", "Rantin', Rovin' Robin", "John Anderson, my jo" or "Ae Fond Kiss, and Then We Sever". Alternatively it could be a moving recital of a Burns poem, with perennial preference for "Tam O'Shanter", "Holly Willie's Prayer", "To a Louse", "Address to the Unco Guid" or "For a' that and a' that".

1. Professor Ronnie Jack of Edinburgh University (himself a much-requested performer at Burns Suppers) has given us a selection of readings from some of the Bard's best-loved works. If you have been asked to read a poem at a Burns Supper and are slightly disconcerted by your pronunciation of the Scots language, or you're not sure of the correct rhythm to employ for your reading, you can listen to many poems on the site whilst reading the text. It's good practice! Thanks also to Professor Jack for all the tips on this page.

2. 'Tam o' Shanter' is Burns's only long narrative poem. It covers the full range of his style from thick Scots to Latinate English and is based on folk tales concerning the haunted Kirk at Alloway. If planned as part of a timed performance and 'told' from memory by a good performer, 'Tam o' Shanter' can be the highlight of a supper. But it takes about twelve minutes to deliver and, in the hands of some histrionically-inclined performers, this can stretch indefinitely.

3. In 'Holy Willie's Prayer', a recent case brought before the presbytery of Ayr is used to satirise extreme Calvinist views on predestination. The full satirical effect of 'Holy Willie's Prayer' will only be achieved if some of the biographical and theological background to the poem is sketched in. Burns has himself conveniently provided a preface, identifying, the bigoted 'voice' of the poem, William Fisher, and giving details about the case he and 'father Auld' brought against Burns's friend, Gavin Hamilton. This is printed in good editions.

4. Warning: Speakers should not try to sing songs as part of their speech without checking in advance on the later programme! Either their inadequate singing voices are mercilessly exposed when the song is professionally repeated, or an artiste, booked to sing the song, exits in high dudgeon, on a cackle of condescension, when you are halfway through.

The Immortal Memory

The keynote speaker takes the stage to deliver a spell-binding oratory on the life of Robert Burns. His literary genius, his politics, his highs and lows, his human frailty and - most importantly - his nationalism are the enduring themes. The speech must bridge the dangerous chasm between serious intent and sparkling wit, painting a colourful picture of Scotland's beloved Bard.
The speaker concludes with a heart-felt toast: "To the Immortal Memory of Robert Burns!"

The second entertainment

More celebration of Burns' work, preferably a poem or song to complement the earlier entertainment.

The toast to the Lassies

The humorous highlight of any Burns Night comes in this toast, which is designed to praise the role of women in the world today. This should be done by selective quotation from Burns's works and should crescendo towards a positive note.
The toast concludes: "To the Lassies!"

The third entertainment

Further indulgence in the works of the great man.

The reply to the toast to the Lassies
In mixed proceedings, a woman has the right of reply to the men's toast. Thanking the toast-master for his kind words is a necessary - and some times strained - formality, but the response offers the chance to upstage the men, again through cunning use of examples from Burns's life and works.

Final entertainment

As the last drops of malt are drained, a final entertainer bravely faces the (usually restless) audience.

Vote of thanks

The host now climbs to his potentially unsteady feet to thank everyone who has contributed to a wonderful evening… and to suggest that taxis will arrive shortly.

Auld Lang Syne

The chairman closes the proceedings by inviting guests to stand and belt out a rousing rendition of the famous tune. The company joins hands and sings as one, having made sure to brush up on those difficult later lines.

Optional extras

Lost Burns manuscripts: Some Burns Night suppers include a Lost Manuscript reading, where a participant with literary aspirations recites from a fictitious long-lost musing of the great man on a new subject.

[LLady]

Sounds like fun dreamy. We have them here but I've not gone to one yet.