Burns Night

Lesley Howard Mc'd the event, the highlight of which was the reading of a cross section of Robbie Burn's work by members of the Poetry club.

Sue Melvill opened with the Selkirk grace.

The Selkirk Grace

Some hae meat an canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it;

But we hae meat, and we can eat,

And sae the Lord be thankit.

Dave Halket read Coming through the Rye

Coming Through The Rye
Coming thro' the rye, poor body,
Coming thro' the rye,
She draiglet a' her petticoatie
Coming thro' the rye.

O, Jenny's a' wat, poor body;
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draiglet a' her petticoatie
Coming thro' the rye.

Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need a body cry?

Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro' the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need the warld ken?

Jane Edwards sang the Banks o' Doon

The Banks o' Doon

YE flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
    How can ye blume sae fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
    And I sae fu' o' care!

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird,
    That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o' the happy days
    When my fause luve was true.

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird,
    That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
    And wistna o' my fate.

Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon,
    To see the woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
    And sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose
    Upon a morn in June;
And sae I flourish'd on the morn,
    And sae was pu'd or' noon.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose
    Upon its thorny tree;
But my fause luver staw my rose,
    And left the thorn wi' me.

Ann Duncan read Rigs o' Barley

 THE RIGS O' BARLEY.

It was upon a Lammas night.
When corn rigs are bonny,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held awa to Annie:
Tho time flew by wi' tentless heed
Till 'tween the late and early;
Wi' sma' persuasions she agreed,
To see me thro' the barley.

The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The moon was shinin' clearly;
I set her down, wi' right guid will,
Amang the rigs o' barley:
I kent her heart was a' my ain;
I lov'd her most sincerely;
I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
Amang the rigs o' barley.

I lock'd her in my fond embrace,
Her heart was beating rarely;
My blessings on that happy place.
Aman the rigs o' barley!
But by the moon and stars sae bright,
That shone that hour so clearly;
She ay shall bless that happy night,
Amang the rigs o' barley.

 
I ha'e been blythe wi' comrades dear,
I hae been merry drinkin'
I hae been joyfu' gath'ring gear,
I hae been happy thinkin:
But a the pleaures e'er I saw,
Tho' three times doubled fairly,
That happy night was worth them a',
Amang the rigs o' barley.

CHORUS.
Corn rigs, and barley rigs,
And corn rigs are bonny:
I'll ne'er forget the happy night,
Among the rigs wi' Annie.

Colin Straker tackled  A Red, Red Rose

A Red, Red Rose

O my Luve is like a red, red rose

   That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve is like the melody

   That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie 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;

I will love thee still, my dear,

   While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

   And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

   Though it were ten thousand mile.

Diane Chappel was once with the Royal Shakespeare Company. This was a return to that

To a Mouse
On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785.

WEE, sleekit, cow’rin’, tim’rous beastie,
O what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
                            Wi’ bickerin’ brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee
                            Wi’ murd’rin’ pattle!

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion
                            Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
                            An’ fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve:
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
                            ’S a sma’ request:
I’ll get a blessin’ wi’ the lave,
                            An’ never miss’t!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa’s the win’s are strewin’;
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
                            O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin’,
                            Baith snell an’ keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary winter comin’ fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
                            Thou thought to dwell—
Till, crash! the cruel coulter past
                            Out thro’ thy cell.

That wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
                            But house or hald,
To thole the winter’s sleety dribble
                            An’ cranreuch cauld!

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’ pain,
                            For promised joy.

Still thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But, och! I backward cast my e’e
                            On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
                            I guess an’ fear!

A NEW TWIST TO PIPING IN THE HAGGIS 

In break with tradition instead of the Haggis itself being piped into the room we piped in the Chef who had done such a magnificent job of taming in ; Derek !