Scotland’s Finest

Rabbie Burns walked into his local in Tarbolton and the landlord said, “Get oot – you’re bard…”

It’s Burns’ night tonight and that means the annual decimation of Scotland’s haggis population. Have you ever wondered why there’s not a Wordsworth night, a Keats night or a Shakespeare night? Me either.

Quite a character was oor Rabbie. He certainly packed a lot into his 37 years on this wee corner of the planet. When he wasn’t getting drunk and nailing chicks he somehow found the time and energy to pen some of the most sublime verses ever committed to paper. Present day Scotland brings to mind these immortal lines:

“O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us! “

That’s a good point. How are we regarded these days? None too favourably as it transpires…

Little more than a month ago some Tory nonentity who represents Torbay was accusing us of wanting to rebuild Hadrian’s Wall while getting the English to pay for it. Bless his wee heart, he’s likely never been further up north than the English Riviera and was blissfully unaware of how much territory he was happy to cede to us.

In any case you’d think they’d be grateful as it’d help get their construction industry out of the Covid doldrums. Whether or not Newcastle United would be happy about having to apply to join the Scottish Premiership is another matter entirely though. Economic, historic and geographic illiteracy can be a lethal combination.

Anyway, back to oor Rabbie and did you know that nine generations after his death he brings just over £200 million into the Scottish economy annually? Nine generations! If he was alive today just think how many independence referendums he would’ve seen. In addition, his own brand is said to be worth about £140 million per annum. Thing is though, if they divvied it up amongst his descendants we’d probably all just get a couple of quid each.

So, in keeping with today’s theme I’ll make my own ham-fisted attempt at a verse. With apologies to the wee harvest moose who inspired his greatest (IMHO) work:

Britannia ye’re wan sleekit beastie
Wi noo a panic in yer breastie
Thou need na been sae ower hasty
Wi tittle tattle!
The Scots they 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!”

Aye that’s it. You could hardly expect me to keep it going for the whole 8 verses. Somehow I doubt if anyone will be reading these words more than 200 years after my demise either. Or even by this time tomorrow.

Be sure to raise a glass to one of Scotland’s finest sons tonight and in the meantime here’s a wee selection of pictures for you to enjoy.