“Burns Nicht” (Doric Poem for Robert Burns “Burns Night”)

Hive ye iver wonnered fit thon Burns Nicht wis a aboot, an fit they did.  Read oan fir hoo them that likes tae celebrate Rabbie Burns birthday wi a supper dae it.

Eence mair comes roon the 25th, the birthday o the baird
Fir Rabbie’s supper eence agin, the tartan clamored laird
A ower the warld, folk gaither wi freens, an beat thon Selkirk grace
Tae celebrate a man o words, a poet fu o grace

We start wi soup, an hud oor weesht, afor mair grub is seen
The chunter soonds the warning, thit the haggis is oan its wye
An oan a platter, fit fir a king, the beast is piped oan in
Tae an address, an pomp worthwhile, is slit frae end tae end

Wi neeps n tatties, the dish doled oot, an a dram o whiskey rare
We’ll hae a toast, tae the Queen, an then’s oor Rabbies turn
Mair thanks tae a, fa did the wirk, tae mak a crackin nicht
An then them lads and lasses joke, wi jibes tae ane an a

An efter a them tales are ower, the dancin micht begin
Or mebbe jist a tale or twa, lik Tam o Shanter playin
An fan its ower we’ll a gie thanks, and link oor airms a hither
Tae pay respects an sing a roon o Auld Lang Syne thigither

Author: Lesley S Smith