Aye. That’s whit ah hud fur ma tea on St Andrews Nicht!

Address to a Haggis – Robert Burns

1.
Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the puddin-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang’s my arm.
2.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hudies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o’ need,
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
3.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reeking, rich!
4.
Then horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
‘Bethankit!’ hums.
5.
Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi perfect scunner,
Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view
On sic a dinner?
6.
Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither’d rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Tho’ bluidy flood or field to dash,
O how unfit.
7.
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He’ll make it whistle;
An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned
Like taps o’ thrissle.
8.
Ye pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o’ fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware,
That jaups in luggies;
But if ye wish her gratfu’ prayer,
Gie her a Haggis!

Congratulations to Robert Crawford on winning the Saltire Society’s book of the year award and commiserations to my friend Alison Lang on not winning the first book award.

News of the results is surprisingly hard to come by, with rather scant information in the BBC online report and naething ava on the Saltire Society’s own site. However, I’ve realised that, pace my earlier fulmination, there were two poetry books on the Homecoming award shortlist: Heaney’s Henryson and Jackie Kay’s The Lamplighter. Stupid of me to overlook that. My apologies to both writers, not that I expect they’ll have been reading my comments anyway!

Still, it doesn’t really affect my point about the main prizes, especially given that the Homecoming award was for this year only. In fact, it causes equal chagrin that poetry was shunted into a one-off prize, no matter how high profile said prize was supposed to be. What does this say about the value that Scotland’s literary culture places on poetry?

BURNSONG set list 30-11-09

(1st set to be broadcast on BBC Radio Scotland 11pm)

The staging and skylights in the Garden Lobby area of the Parliament.

Scottish Parliament
1st set – 4.10pm-5pm

1.         Inveresk          4:01         Alex Hodgson

2.         Days Gone By          4:06         Marie Claire Lee

3.         Put Good Knickers On And Go Into Town         3:02         Roberto Cassani

4.         Tinto Hymn         3:27         Lisa Rigby

5.         The Poet         2:45         A. J. Roach

6.         Guthan Air A’ghaoith (Voices On The Wind)         3:30         Fiona J Mackenzie

7.         Spielberg Moon          4:37         Andy Tucker

8.         Thinking Hybrid Redirected         4:13         Emily Elbert

9.         Plate Smashing Song          2:39         Nuala Kennedy  & Ziggy Campbell

10.         All Is Not Lost         3:41         Yvonne Lyon

BURNSONG set list 30-11-09

Scottish Parliament

2nd set – 5.10pm-5.55pm

1.         Hang on in there Sunshine         3.02         Alex Hodgson

2.         Housework of the Heart         3.14         Andy Tucker

3.         Fill Asophocles          3.32         Nuala Kennedy and Ziggy Campbell

4.         I Don’t Want To Love         3.30         Marie-Claire Lee

5.         Mutton Dressed as Lamb         3.10         Roberto Cassani

6.         Only In Your Love I Am         3.45         Yvonne Lyon

7.         Thuirt Thu Riumsa         3.30         Fiona McKenzie

8.         Clockwork Music Box         3.20         AJ Roach

9.         Everything’s Changed         3.30         Emily Elbert

10.         Hey Honey I’m Home         3.30         Lisa Rigby

11.         A Man’s a Man for A’That         2.52         Robert Burns

This Robert Burns lyric, set to a traditional tune, is the song we’re going to perform at the end of the gig at the Parliament on the 30th Nov. The group is currently discussing how they want us to perform it – current suggestions include Gaelic, choral, rock and reggae versions!

Is there for honest poverty,
That hings its heid an’ a’ that,
The coward slave we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Its toils obscure an’ a’ that,
The rank is but the guinea stamp,
The man’s the gowd for a’ that

What tho’ on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hodden gray an’ a’ that?
Gie fools their silk an’ 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 coof for a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Their ribband star an’ a’ that,
The man o’ independent mind
He looks an’ laughs at a’ that.

A prince can mak’ a belted knight,
A marquis, duke an’ a’ that,
But an honest man’s aboon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna 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 brithers be for a’ that.

Nằm yên trong máng chiền kia

This is the first verse of the Vietnamese version of “Away in a manger” that is found in my only Vietnamese hymnal, the Christian & Missionary Alliance-published Thánh Ca, where it is hymn #58. There are two stanzas, each twice as long as the English and Esperanto stanzas I am familiar with, and it is set to SPILMAN, a tune also known by its best-known text’s incipit, “Flow gently, sweet Afton” (not to be confused with AFTON WATER, Robert Burns’ tune for the text). I’m interested in knowing more about it: who translated it, and when? what exactly does it say, and does that meaning correspond closely, loosely or not at all to the English original, in whole or in part (and if in part, what part(s))? is it the “canonical” Vietnamese version of this carol? is it always sung to SPILMAN or does it also find itself set to MUELLER and/or CRADLE SONG?  I despair of ever learning enough Vietnamese to answer these questions for myself.

#008

Because there is no better way to expand my culinary horizons than to try haggis

And when I say “expand culinary horizons” I actually mean “induce a heart attack”.



Facts about Haggis:

• Haggis is not a three-legged bird, nor a small, furry animal with one pair of legs longer than the other pair so it won’t tumble down the mountainous terrain of the Highlands.  It is made with the heart, lungs, and liver of sheep, suet, onion, oatmeal, spice and salt, and boiled with chicken stock in the animal’s stomach
• A poem by Robert Burns titled “Address to a Haggis“ helped determine haggis as the official food of Scotland
• A Burns supper (January 25) commemorates Robert Burns with a haggis dinner and a reading of part of his poem
• As of 1998, Gung Haggis Fat Choy dinners, originating predominantly from British Columbia, involve the meshing of the Scottish culture and Chinese culture; alongside the typical haggis dinner is haggis-stuffed won ton and haggis lettuce wrap
• Haggis is typically served with neeps (mashed rutabaga or turnip) and tatties (mashed potatoes) and Scotch whiskey (“water of life”)
• Haggis was a common meal for the poor, as it made use of parts of sheep that were going to be thrown away
• Eric “Steakbellie” Livingston holds the world record for haggis consumption: At a competition in Philadelphia in 2008, he ate 3 pounds in 8 minutes
• Haggis hurling is a sport where the player throws a haggis as far as possible; the record-keeper is Alan Pettigrew, who threw a 1.5-lb haggis a distance of 180 feet, 10 inches in 1984

Source: Wikipedia.org

Edinburgh, the capital city of Scotland has been called home by some of the world’s most famous writers. The beautiful scenery and landmarks of the city have held inspiration to writers past and present, whether it be using the city to set the scene in novels or using it to write some of the world’s most influential poetry.

Princes Street- The Scott’s Monument

The Scott’s monument dominates the sky line of princes street which commemorates the life and work of the great writer Sir Walter Scott, who brought the world such novels as Waverly(1814) and Heart of Midlothian(1818).A walk up the 287 steps inside the gothic monument designed by architect George Meikle Kemp, offers a tremendous view of Edinburgh’s breath taking sky line.

If interested in the works of Sir Walter Scott, a visit to his old high school, Edinburgh’s second boys High school is only a short walk away on Infirmary Street

The Canongate Cemetery

When visiting a City, whether it be for pleasure or business a cemetery isn’t usually the first place you would think to visit, but if you want to experience the real literary sense of Edinburgh, a trip to the cemetery is not to be missed. The Canongate cemetery which is located at the bottom of the Royal Mile pays homage to many of Edinburgh’s past literary geniuses.

At the entrance is a statue dedicated to Edinburgh born poet Robert Ferguson who’s grave can be visited within the cemetery walls. Although dying at the young age of twenty four, Fergusons use of the Scottish language in creating his poetry inspired and still inspires many writers. One of the most famous names which Ferguson is said to have been an influence upon is one of the world’s most famous writers Robert Burns. The grave of Robert Ferguson is said to be the first place that Robert Burns visited when he arrived in Edinburgh, and he is the one who paid for the extravagant grave which lies within the cemetery. Engraved on the headstone are the words of Robert Burns, they read:

“ No sculpted marble here nor pompouslay,

No flouried urd, no animated bust,

This uiple stone directs pale sconas way,

Tb pour her sorrows oer her pocts dust “

Robert Burns was not the only great writer who looked to Robert Ferguson for inspiration. Edinburgh born writer Robert Louis Stevenson, the author of Treasure Island(1883) and Kidnapped(1886) was thought to have been greatly influenced by the young poet. A plaque which Stevenson dedicated to Robert Ferguson lies beside his grave in the Canongate Cemetery.

One with a keen eye will pick up on a few mistakes which have been made in the cemetery when referring to Robert Ferguson. The “Celebrities” board which hangs at the entrance of the grave yard spells his name incorrectly and then says he was born in 1751 and died 1744, and his grave stone gives the wrong date in which he died.

Hanover Street – Milnes Bar

When in Edinburgh why not pay a visit to Milnes bar, located on the corner of Hanover Street and Rose Street. Milnes Bar has been visited by some of Edinburgh’s top writers and was once a local bar for Edinburgh based writers such as Norman McCaig, Hugh MacDiarmid and George Mackay Brown. The Milnens bar which is now marketed as ‘poets pub’ is due to such poets as these. One particular room in Milnes which should be visited is The Cremlin. This room was where poets Norman McCaig and Hugh MacDiarmid and many others made plans to change the world. The Cremlin now lies as a memorial to the past poets who were once regulars in Milnes Bar.

James Aitken, a poet and English teacher in Edinburgh recalls Milnes Bar when these poets were still around, “It was such a fantastic place to be, they were such inspirations. I used to read my work to Norman McCaig and even though I was younger and my work wasn’t great he always had compliments”. James still like to visit the bar where he first became inspired to write poetry, even though a lot has changed, “It’s a lot different than the old days, but it’s still such a great  place to visit and you really get the essence of the what used to be there, it still inspires me to this day”.

These are just some of the places which can be visited in Edinburgh which pay homage to the cities past literary minds, and a visit to Edinburgh would not be complete without a visit to at least one of these places.

Side Bar

It is not only writers of the past who have used the streets of Edinburgh to produce some of the world’s most talked about literary pieces. Authors such as JK Rowling who dreamt up the character Harry Potter while sipping coffee at an Edinburgh Cafe and Ian Rankin who has based his ‘Rebus’ novels in the city, have been influenced in some of the same ways such as Robert Burns and Robert Louis Stevenson had been in the past.

Quentin Jardine, although born on the West side of Scotland now calls Edinburgh home and has for many years. His crime novels, based on the life and work of Detective Skinner, take readers through the city of Edinburgh and readers of his novel can visit some of the places where the novel is set. One place which is used throughout many of the Detective Skinner books in the Royal Botanic Gardens, which Quentin Jardine describes as, “a cracking place to be, it started out as somewhere I could base my books doing little research, but now I use this in a lot of my books as its just such a lovely place to come”.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

This was the piece that I was most looking forward to writing. I had so many ideas that I wanted to do and so much I wanted to write about I could probably done a whole book. When I decided to look at literature, I was going to focus a lot on new novelist and writer’s, but as I began to research it was very interesting what you learn about things from the past and how they tie together. I went on a tour which took me to all the places I have mentioned and more, which I wish I could have given more detail of but didn’t have enough room. I am from Edinburgh, but all the things I learned and the places I visited to find information where places I had never heard of, and I heard some great stories from people as well. I also interviewed author Quentin Jardine for this who was so lovely and was full of information about places he liked to write about, and places that he like to use to portray certain things, so I am also very thankful for him taking time to speak to me.

I had a lot of fun putting this feature together, and although it wasn’t what I initially wanted to do I feel that I managed to put something together that I was really happy with.

The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill,
Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill;
How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear!
As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year.

The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown,
And all the gay foppery of summer is flown:
Apart let me wander, apart let me muse,
How quick Time is flying, how keen Fate pursues!

How long I have liv’d-but how much liv’d in vain,
How little of life’s scanty span may remain,
What aspects old Time in his progress has worn,
What ties cruel Fate, in my bosom has torn.

How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gain’d!
And downward, how weaken’d, how darken’d, how pain’d!
Life is not worth having with all it can give-
For something beyond it poor man sure must live.

~Robert Burns

source

As an addition to my post on the clearances of Guisachan, I think I should give you an idea of what these farmers thought about their lands being turned over to shooting estates.

Robert Burns, who worked as a tenant farmer in South Ayrshire, penned these words that probably perfectly captured the sentiments of these poor evicted crofters:

Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns
Bring autumn’s pleasant weather
The moorcock springs on whirring wings
Among the blooming heather
Now waving grain, wild o’er the plain
Delights the weary farmer
And the moon shines bright as I rove at night
To muse upon my charmer.
The partridge loves the fruitful fells
The plover loves the mountains
The woodcock haunts the lonely dells
The soaring hern the fountains
Through lofty groves the cushat roves
The path of man to shun it
The hazel bush o’erhangs the thrush
The spreading thorn the linnet
Thus every kind their pleasure find
The savage and the tender
Some social join and leagues combine
Some solitary wander
Avaunt away! the cruel sway
Tyrannic man’s dominion
The sportsman’s joy, the murdering cry
The fluttering gory pinion
But Peggy dear, the evening’s clear
Thick files the skimming swallow
The sky is blue, the field’s in view
All fading green and yellow
Com let us stray our gladsome way
And view the charms of nature
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn
And every happy creature
We’ll gently walk and sweetly talk
Till the silent moon shines clearly
I’ll grasp thy waiste and, fondly pressed
Swear how I love thee dearly
Not vernal showers to budding flowers
Not autumn to the farmer
So dear can be as thou to me
My fair, and lovely charmer.

Here’s Dick Gaughan performing these lyrics of the Bard of Ayrshire:

Source

By Rory Reynolds

A HANDWRITTEN Robert Burns poem worth £30,000 is to be displayed for the first time alongside some of Scotland’s most treasured artifacts.

The Battle of Sherramuir, a poem detailing the Jacobites’ fight against the king’s army at the height of the Jacobite rebellion, will be among the highlights of the Treasures exhibition in Edinburgh.

The Forlani Map – the first ever printed map of Scotland – and Sherlock Holmes tale The Adventure of the Illustrious Client, handwritten by Arthur Conan Doyle, are also expected to tempt the crowds out of the cold and into the renovated National Library of Scotland.

The map, which is the showpiece of the library’s collection of two million maps, dates back to 1546 and is derived from a document charting the British Isles.

Another highlight of the exhibition, which runs from this Thursday to the 8th January, is the signed order of the Massacre of Glencoe, a chilling document sanctioning the murder of senior members of the MacDonald clan by the Campbells.

The 300-year-old document ordered the Campbells to “putt all to the sword under seventy” those of the MacDonald clan.

Other famous documents include the Copperplate Map of Treasure Island, complete with X marking the spot of buried treasure.

The map was part of the 1895 memorial Edinburgh edition of Robert Louis Stevenson novels.

Martyn Wade of the National Library of Scotland, said: “We are very excited to be celebrating the year of Homecoming by offering members of the public the opportunity to see this collection of priceless Scottish treasures.

“The collection has a wide appeal, with pieces from iconic Scottish literary figures in Burns, Conan Doyle, Scott and Stevenson, and from key moments and movements in the history of Scotland, including the Covenanters, the Jacobites, the Union of the Parliaments and, of course, the massacre at Glencoe.

“I would encourage anyone interested in catching a glimpse of Scotland’s history to visit the library this winter.”

See more of our pictures at our Flickr site and videos at our dedicated channel,  Deadline TV.

By Oliver Farrimond

A TINY book of Robert Burns’ poems is set to be blasted into SPACE.

The miniature book will dock with the International Space Station next year after being carried into orbit by an American astronaut.

A distant relative of Scotland’s Bard, Alan Archibald, donated the book to a space school after discovering he was distantly related to Burns last year.

Alan, an electronics engineer at the University of Strathclyde, said: ““As it’s the year of Homecoming I thought it would be nice to celebrate Burns and the Space School by sending the Bard’s words into space.

“Although the songs are very old, his words remain well-known and loved across the world.

“He was quite a character and it seemed fitting that we celebrate his work in an unusual way.

“I suppose it’s one small book for man, one giant message for mankind.”

The book contains 14 poems and songs, and will accompany NASA pilot Tony Antonelli on Space Shuttle Atlantis to the International Space Station during May of next year.

Engineer Alan had the idea after discovering he was Rabbie’s great-great-great-great-great-nephew last year.

He added: “There had been a rumour in our family for a number of years that we were related to Burns, but nobody knew what the relationship was.

“I decided to check it out and began to look at documents, include birth and death certificates.”

Celebrate

After discovering the link, he tracked down the tiny book and decided to have it blasted into space to celebrate both his own discovery, and the 250th anniversary of the Bard’s birth.

Alan then passed on the thumb-sized book on to a group of Scots students on a trip to Space School at NASA’s Johnson Space Centre in Houston, Texas – via First Minister Alex Salmond.

The First Minister said: “In the Year of Homecoming when we celebrate the global influence of Robert Burns, it’s fantastic to see our national poet’s legacy travel even further.

“Launching this miniature book of poems into space is an excellent way to highlight the many great contributions that Scotland has given to the world.

“Great Scottish minds have been at the forefront of innovation for centuries and our excellent reputation continues today.”

After returning from its cosmic trip, it is hoped that the book will become an exhibit at the Burns Museum at Alloway when it opens next year.

See more of our pictures at our Flickr site and videos at our dedicated channel,  Deadline TV.

When I first heard of the world of blogs, twitter, and the other social media tools, I had some skepticism. So much of what we do in Public Affairs & Research is fuelled by face to face regular contact with elected officials and state departments. We need to have all the necessary information to give them to support and pass legislation that is critical to Courage Center and the greater disability community. These meetings often see us thrown many curveballs in the relevant information that legislators want. Paraphrasing Burns, our ‘best laid schemes’ are regularly changed and our tactics altered. All of which can be difficult if you are not there in person to adapt.

However, over the course of the last few years I have become very excited about social media and its power to effect change and mobilize advocates.  My own personal experience living overseas, has seen me recognize how fantastic Facebook can be to stay in touch with all my friends back in England- and it’s also a great deal easier and cheaper than dealing with the six hour time difference and multiple phone cards. Likewise, it’s helping spread the word of Courage Center through personal experiences. The last time I checked the Courage Center cause had 1,478 people supporting our cause and its still growing.  And this is just one outlet for people to support and talk about Courage Center.

Courage Center is firmly plugged into many social media tools, recognizing the importance they have to non-profits today. For example, in our work in Public Affairs & Research, nothing will ever replace face to face contact with legislators and real people telling real stories- which is why our Advocacy Day at the Minnesota State Capitol  is so important (NB: Advocacy Day March 9^th 2010 fill your calendars! ) But if we can use social media to bring people to the Capitol for those face to face meetings it becomes invaluable.

Of course we are growing daily with our web outreach at Courage Center. More and more video is being added to tell our consumer stories. So much so we have a YouTube channel. We have entered the blogosphere with the fantastic Camps blog, the Policy & Research blog and a Sport and Rec blog very soon (Watch this space). Finally, if you are a Tweeter you can follow Camp, HandiHams, Public Affairs and a general Courage Center updates all on Twitter.

So I guess while you cannot transfer everything you do from you daily job to the web and its tools, the augmentation of your organizations strategies is certainly a reachable goal. Plus as technologies advances everyday, you better join in the race or face being left behind and lapped by the competition.

Steve Robertson and Henry Littlehales play the bagpipes.

The two poems are after the cut.

A Man’s A Man For 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,
The Man’s the gowd for a’ that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an’ a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man’s a Man for a’ that:
For a’ that, and 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 coof for a’ that:
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
His ribband, star, an’ a’ that:
The man o’ independent mind
He looks an’ laughs at a’ that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that;
But an honest man’s abon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna 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 coming yet for a’ that,
That Man to Man, the world o’er,
Shall brothers be for a’ that.

A Red, Red Rose

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie,
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!
And fare-thee-weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ ’twere ten thousand mile!

Just as the Portrait Gallery building was beginning to look a little like Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory before the Golden Ticket competition, when no-one and nothing came and went – least of all Willy Wonka himself, the Oompa Loompas, the Eatable Marshmallow Pillows, Everlasting Gobstoppers and other chocolates and sweets, and indeed, visitors - change is imminent.

Not quite to the extent of Golden Tickets being planned for the Portrait Gallery scones,  but the Queen Street building is set to become an apparent hive of activity once again, as it has just been handed over to our contractors, BAM Construction, who will refurbish and restore, transforming the building by Spring 2011, complete with our very own ’great glass elevator’, which will replace the somewhat current temperamental lift.

Meanwhile, work on the Portrait of the Nation exhibitions gathers pace – NGS curators, educators and conservators continue to meet regularly with our design consultants, Studioarc.  Having started last year, this ongoing process benefits from the lengthy lead-in time, allowing for exhibition content, ideas and design elements to evolve, before the final realisation of all the exhibitions and displays, early in 2011.  In addition to the work going on in the exhibition and interpretation fields, planning is already underway for the ‘recant’ of the staff and collections in the Spring of 2011.

Tram passing the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, c. early 1950s © Lothian Buses

Elsewhere, one of our partnership exhibitions with the  National Burns Collection and Homecoming Scotland 2009 - Zig-Zag: The Paths of Robert Burns -  is in the last few weeks of its tour, at the Hunterian Museum, University of Glasgow.  The exhibition closes on St. Andrew’s Day (30 November) –  never mind 1000 days until the 2012 Olympics, from this date it will be (provisionally) 730 days until the Scottish National Portrait Gallery is due to reopen.  The race for completion between Portrait of the Nation and the Edinburgh tram project is underway!

Is there for honest poverty,
That hangs his head, and a’ that?
The coward-slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a’ that!
For a’that, and a’that,
Our toils obscure, and a’that;
The rank is but the guinea-stamp,
The man’s the gowd for a’ that!

What tho’ on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey and a’that;
Gie fools their skills, and knaves their wine,
A man’s a man for a’ that!
For a’ that, and a’ that,
Their tinsel show, and a’ that;
The honest man, though e’er sae poor,
Is king o’ men for a’ that!

Ye see yon birkie, ca’d a lord,
Wha struts, and stares, and a’ that;
Though hundreds worship at his word,
He’s but a coof for a’ that:
For a’ that, and a’ that:
His riband, star, and a’ that.
The man of independent mind
He looks and laughs at a’ that!

A prince can make a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a’ that,
But an honest man’s aboon his might,
Guid faith he mauna fa’ that!
For a’ that, and a’ that,
Their dignities, and a’ that,
The pith o’ sense, and pride o’ worth,
Are higher ranks 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,
May bear the gree, and a’ that;
For a’ that, and a’ that,
It’s comin’ yet for a’ that,
That man to ma, the world o’er,
Shall brithers be for a’ that!

Robert Burns

1. What do you make of Burns’ style? the way in which he uses language?  the words themselves?  What do you think he is up to?  If one wanted to imitate a “dialect” in a poem today, what type of words and language do you think one could use?  Think of various different dialects, colloquialisms and slang in our country, like southern accents, Yankee slang, urban lingo, etc.

2. Describe the dramatic situation in “To a Mouse.” What “tragic” event occurs?  How does the farmer who caused the tragic event respond to it? The poet offers a fairly long subtitle to the poem. Why is it really important that the action in the poem takes place in November?  Why would the subject matter of the poem be less urgent if it were, say, June.

3. Although “To a Mouse” comes across as a folksy poem depicting a pretty trivial scenario, Burns cleverly allows deep and poignant issues to manifest that have been treated to even epic extents in poetry since the ancient Greeks. Look at the following  passage from the poem, and think about enduring life-themes it expresses.

But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,

In proving foresight may be vain:

The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men

Gang aft agley,

An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ paiin

For promis’d joy!

4. “A Red, Red Rose” is really the lyrics to a song. Do you think it works on its own as a poem without the music? Do you feel that the poem holds up as a poem? Or do you think it is a bit mawkish, Hallmarky, hokey? If the poem is sappy, do you think that Burns is being intentionally so?  Does the sap–the cheesy-factor–veil something deeper?  Like the poem, “To a Mouse,” consider the dramatic situation of the poem.  What is happening or what may be about to happ

Die Doppelzüngigkeit der Mullahs ist ansteckend… Haben Sie mal verstanden, was diese Frau Ebadi wirklich will?  

Shirin Ebadi, an Iranian human rights advocate and Nobel Peace Prize laureate, said in an AP interview that Washington is mistaken in insisting that it would be intolerable for Iran to have nuclear weapons.

“Just as the world tolerates North Korea and Pakistan it would have to tolerate Iran as well,” she said.

I like Urdu Poems as well as English Poems. So today I share with you this poem which title is “Tam 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.
(ROBERT BURNS)

By Julia Bruce

Scotland’s own Edinburgh Castle has seen a 7% annual increase in visitors in 2009 alone. This surge could be down to the year of the homecoming which has made way to over 400 events, adverts and public interest over the past year.

250 year’s later, is appears that Scotland still holds as much intrigue as did back in the era of Robbie Burns. The homecoming came from the Scottish Government’s aspiration to increase Scottish Tourist by 50% by 2015.

Of course there has been public outcry at the amount of tax payers money that has been spent on these patriotic celebrations. According Visit Scotland, the core budget of £5.5m, includes £3m for programme, £1.75m for marketing and communications and close to a million pounds for operational costs. In response to the success and reasoning behind this particularly fat budget s spokesperson for Homecoming Scotland 2009 said, ‘Several factors have indicated that the celebration has been a success and is well on its way to meeting its targets.  An extensive evaluation and report will be available after Homecoming Year, in Spring 2010.” Furthermore, the target is to deliver an 8:1 return on the core investment of £5.5 million by generating £44 million of tourism revenue for Scotland in 2009.

So with all this money being spent, it is comforting to know that people are acutally aware of the homecoming taking place. According to a YouGov poll (July 09), 87% of Scottish people are aware of Homecoming, and this figure has grown significantly from the 29% reported in August 2008.

A spokesperson for Historic Scotland also views the Homecoming as a success by the tourism sector: “Overall the Year of Homecoming has proved very positive for Historic Scotland and we hope to build on its success for the future”.

Perhaps in a time of such economic unrest there is no better way than to pull together as a nation and make the most of our valuable and historic resources.

Montreal Daily Star,

25 January 1882, page 2

The Birthday of Robert Burns

Canada is pre-eminently blest with an extra supply of Scotchmen and their descendants!  Governor-General, Premier and a host of other officials, claim that nationality, whilst Scottish merchants, lawyers, men of science and learning, editors, farmers, storekeepers and skilled mechanics, represent their native land (perhaps we ought rather to say, do honor to it) by occupying the innermost ranks in their various calling themselves this wide Dominion, which they adopted as their home.  The ~~~ and intelligent body of Caledonians will feel doubly proud of their “cherished land hoped ~~~,” as they remember that this day, the 25^th of January, is the birthday of Scotland’s Inspired Bard, the gifted Robert Burns!  The day is held sacred to his honored memory throughout the world.  His wondrous and heart stirring poetry is read and appreciated wherever the English language is spoken; no library is complete without his works; quotations from his verses are on every tongue, and his songs, breathing both love, morality and patriotism soften and enchant both heart and ear.  The birthplace of Scotland’s poet is now visited by thousands of admirers from all parts of the glob, especially by Canadians and Americans, who rightly consider the tour of Scotland incomplete without a pilgrimage to the lowly thatched cottage where Robert Burns first saw the light.  Colonel RG Ingersoll, however far astray in his theological belief, has certainly expressed both well and happily the feelings evoked by a visit to the poet’s birthplace in the following stirring lines:-

Though Scotland boasts a thousand names

Of patriot, king and peer,

The noblest, grandest of them all

Was loved and cradled here;

Here lived the gentle peasant prince,

The loving cotter king,

Compared with whom the greatest Lord

Is but a titled thing.

‘Tis but a cot roofed in with the straw,

A hovel made of clay,

One door shuts out the cold and storm,

One window greets the day:

And yet I stand within the room,

And hold all thrones in scorn,

For here beneath this lowly thatch

Love’s sweetest bard was born.

Within this hallowed hut I feel

Like one who clasps a shrine,

When the glad lips at last have touched

The something deemed divine;

And here the world, through all the year,

As long as day returns,

The tribute of its love and tears

Will pay to Robert Burns.