Greetings, friends. (XV)

Greetings, friends. Emily’s post reminded me that last night was Burns Night. I wish a happy one to all who celebrated. Burns Night, as you are doubtless aware, celebrates the birthday of Robert Burns, or “Rabbie” to his pals, that treasured bard of Scotland.

Burns, as in sick ones, are also what the poet was best known for. He famously excoriated the signers of the 1707 Act of Union with the Kingdom of England:

O would, ere I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay,
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!

But pith and power, till my last hour,
I'll mak this declaration;
We're bought and sold for English gold-
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

My own favorite Burns is a bit more contemplative:

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 promis’d joy!

That’s about as fatalistically Scottish a sentiment as I can imagine, but if that weren’t bad enough, he goes on:

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!

Och, indeed! Now the best thing, in my opinion, about Burns Night is that it is traditionally celebrated with an event called a Burns supper, which I encourage you to read more about on Wikipedia.

I have never attended a Burns supper, but I desperately want to, for one reason, and one reason alone:

A Burns supper is a Passover Seder, but for Scots.

Look: There’s ritually prescribed food, there are obligatory toasts, there are prescribed verses to recite, and, what’s more, it all happens in a regular program known as the “Standard Order”.

Which is the literal translation of the Hebrew word סדר (seder).

Now, there are some differences. The haggis is definitely not kosher… even though it does receive treatment that at least looks like a kosher slaughter.

Still. Drinking and reading poetry sounds like a great night to me. Would someone please invite me to a Burns supper next year?

Subscribe now

The happy timing of Burns Night reminded me of my other favorite Scots poet, Andy Stewart of the band Silly Wizard. I’d been listening to Silly Wizard while driving around New Hampshire the other day, and a bunch of Stewart’s zingers leapt out at me, and I’ve been wanting to share.

Silly Wizard are less well known than their talent deserves, possibly because they spent the 1970s and ‘80s playing mournful Scottish trad while everyone else was listening to Olivia Newton-John and Tiffany. Their albums all have mournfully Scottish titles like “Kiss the Tears Away” and “So Many Partings”.

About half, or two thirds, of their tracks are medleys of traditional airs, reels, and jigs, usually starting off at about an andante and winding up at a heel-lifting presto. I love these, to be sure. But the remainder of their music often has lyrics, and this is where Stewart’s cultural inheritance from Burns really shines.

On the evening that I mentioned
I passed with light intention
Through a part of our dear country
Known for beauty and for style
In the place of noble thinkers
Of scholars and great drinkers
But above them all for splendour
Shone the Queen of all Argyll

Noble thinkers, scholars, and great drinkers — what is poetry, if not a statement of our human values? I am on board.

Even more delightfully fatalistic than Burns is the narrator of Stewart’s “The Isla Waters”, who lives across the river from a pub, and ruminates on the difficulties of getting home in the dark:

And if I be dround in the Isla waters,
Hou the deuce would I win hame?
If I be drounk in the Isla waters,
My wee doggie would find me in the Isla stream.

Well, at least someone would find him. I’ll leave you today with a sentiment from “The Ramblin’ Rover”, which, although penned by Stewart, has become a Celtic trad standard:

When parting was no pleasure, I’ve drunk another measure
To the good friends that we treasure, for they always are on our minds.

Go listen to the song. I don’t want to ruin the punchline for you.

If you’re reading this, I send my love. Ceterum censeo pro vigilum imperdiet cessandam est, and to the rest of you, air do shlàinte!