Burns

[maggiebee]

For Scots wherever you may be.

 

There is a star whose beaming ray

Is shed on ev'ry clime.

It shines by night, it shines by day

And ne'er grows dim wi' time.

It rose upon the banks of Ayr,

It shone on Doon's clear stream -

Twa hundred years are gane and mair,

Yet brighter grows its beam.

Let kings and courtiers rise and fa',

This world has mony turns

Yet brightly beams abeen them a'

The star o' Rabbie Burns.

Though he was but a ploughman lad

And wore the hodden grey,

Auld Scotia's sweetest bard was bred

Aneath a roof o'strae.

Tae sweep the strings o' Scotia's lyre,

It needs nae classic lore;

It's mither wit an native fire

That warms the bosom's core.

Let kings and courtiers rise and fa',

This world has mony turns

Yet brightly beams abeen them a'

The star o' Rabbie Burns.

[jno]

Tae a Sex-Toy

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2024/jan/25/robert-burns-womanising-reputation-poetry-scotland

[Buenchico]

Well, if we're going to have Thomson's words, let's have Booth's music too! 🎵

[Buenchico]

From the pen of Scotland's finest poet, William McGonagall 😊:

Immortal Robert Burns of Ayr,
There’s but few poets can with you compare;
Some of your poems and songs are very fine:
To “Mary in Heaven” is most sublime;
And then again in your “Cottar’s Saturday Night,”
Your genius there does shine most bright,
As pure as the dewdrops of night.

Your “Tam o’ Shanter’ is very fine,
Both funny, racy, and divine,
From John o’ Groats to Dumfries
All critics consider it to be a masterpiece,
And, also, you have said the same,
Therefore they are not to blame.

And in my own opinion both you and they are right,
For your genius there does sparkle bright,
Which I most solemnly declare
To thee, Immortal Bard of Ayr!

Your “Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon”
Is sweet and melodious in its tune,
And the poetry is moral and sublime,
And in my opinion nothing can be more fine.

Your “Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled”
Is most beautiful to hear sung or read;
For your genius there does shine as bright,
Like unto the stars of night….

Immortal Bard of Ayr! I must conclude my muse
To speak in praise of thee does not refuse,
For you were a mighty poet, few could with you compare,
And also an honour to Scotland, for your genius it is rare.

[DTCwordfan]

 

A Nod to Rabbie & Bueller Lee - 'The Red, RedHelen Rose'

O, my AB love is like my pick-up truck
That's newly sprung an Editor leak;
O, my love is like a chatterbank trip
A drug that's taken every week.

Purty, or is this Prudie, as you, buck-toothed gal,
So deep in love I am;
And I will still love you, all AB Wo-man,
Like young-uns love Chuck'sSpam.

If the still runs dry, Old Country Girl,
And the bucks all leave Douglas and holler,
I will love you still, ABWo-man,
Like two piglets, Gulliver and TTT,  who love to woller.

I gotta go, Old AB Wo-man!
I'll be trollin' for awhile!
But I'll be comin' back tomorra night.
My Presbyterian or is that Prostitute Mod's just off a mile.

[Redhelen72]

lol DTC you have outdone yourself 

[Buenchico]

Brilliant, as always, DTC 🤩

(I should have been on stage spouting some performance poetry about now but I couldn't face the long drive, along winding country roads in the dark, to the venue tonight).

[dustypuss]

An English doctor is being shown around a Scottish hospital. At the end of his visit, he's shown into a ward with a number of patients who show no obvious signs of injury. He goes to examine the first man he sees, and the man proclaims:-

 

"Fair fa' yer honest sonsie face,

Great chieftain o'the puddin' race!

Aboon them a' ye tak your place, painch tripe or thairm:

Weel are ye worthy o' a grace as lang's my arm...."

 

The doctor, being somewhat taken aback, goes to the next patient, who immediately launches into:-

 

"Some hae meat, and canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it,

But we hae meat and we can eat,

And sae the Lord be thankit."

 

This continues with the next patient:-

 

"Wee sleekit cow'rin tim'rous beastie,

O what a panic's in thy breastie!

Thou need na start awa sae hasty, wi bickering brattle

I wad be laith to run and chase thee, wi murdering prattle!"

 

"Well," said the Englishman to his Scottish colleague, "I see you saved the psychiatric ward for last."

 

"No, no, no," the Scottish doctor corrected him, "this is the Serious Burns Unit."