IT'S BURNS NIGHT! (*)
Scots cannae hear a fiddle band
without they tap their feet.
And when the 25th(*) comes round
the lassies feel the heat.
And so before they take the floor
we strap them to a sheep!
Bees of Maggieknockater"
is not their first choice dance
and "Dashing Sergeants" (black or white)
do not lead to romance.
They listen to the jigs and reels,
while waiting "Strip the Willow"
The big black bandage keeps them still,
the fleece a pleasant pillow.
The hoolie starts! We cut them free!
They join in with high zest.
(Do they do this in Fochabers
or stuck-up Inverness?)
And old John Knox turns in his grave
at this eye-popping Burns Night rave.
(*) 25th. January. Burns Night is celebrated by Scots, both domiciled and ex-pat. They foregather to feast on haggis and mashed neeps (golden turnips), and whisky. The Haggis is piped-in, welcomed and addressed. The poetry of the iconic Rabbie Burns is recited. Bagpipes are played. "Ae Fond Kiss", "My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose" are sung, at which point tears may flow as the whisky takes hold. There is often dancing. These guys have dispensed with the traditional kilts and tartan skirts for Auld Lang Syne, or other reasons I leave you to guess at.
Worthier Magpies on display at Willow Manor.