Pre-Burns Night Freebie

Just a short post to say that I’ve bashed up a wee Rabbie Burns ebook in tribute to the great man and you can download it from the Freebies page.  Obviously you can get the poems from anywhere, but I’ve put a few cracking old pictures in there that somebody might get a kick out of.

Isn’t it amazing that centuries after his death, Rabbie brings millions of pounds into the Scottish economy every year?  I must admit I find that pretty mind-blowing.

I don’t know how things are now, but it always irritiated me that we never got taught any of these works of genius at the school.  Shakespeare?  Aye  – plenty of that, and I mean PLENTY, and I absolutely detested it verily and forsooth thou varlets.

My favourite Burns’ work is To A Mouse.  The following lines always make me feel strangely humbled by the man’s humanity:

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!

I had mice in my attic last January and I poisoned the wee bastirts.

Nobody will remember the poem I did last year which was inspired by this very masterpiece so I’m repeating it here:

Britannia ye’re wan sleekit beastie
Wi noo a panic in yer breastie
Thou need na been sae ower hasty
Wi tittle tattle!
Salmond he will ver soon waste ye
In comin battle.

‘Twill soon be Scotia’s firm opinion
There’s nae mair need for this here union
And so will fa yer proud dominion
Built on these lies
How you’d insult yer ain companion:
“Ye’re subsidised!”

Originally I was going to rattle up one called Salm O’Shanter where our intrepid hero is frantically racing to get across the Water of Leith with 3 hags in hot pursuit but I thought it might give my readers nightmares.

I’m sure regular reader Bill Urquhart won’t mind me signing off by using his comment from a couple of weeks ago:

1707 Bought and sold for English gold by a few self-centred political parasites.

2013 still being bought and sold for English gold by a few self-centred political parasites.

The Davidsons, Alexanders and Darlings of this world aren’t fit to lick the dirt off the great man’s working boots.  Be sure to raise a glass in tribute to one of Auld Scotia’s finest sons on Friday night.

A Cybernat

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