She fell in love upon first sight
Although indeed he knew this not
Her heart and soul he did excite
And at this supper and upon this night
Where honoured guest he did recite
The fine words of Rabbie Burns,
She hoped perchance she would catch his eye
And he entranced, her love would return.
He draws and cleans the knife
“His knife see rustic Labour dicht”
Plunges into haggis and cuts
“An' cut you up wi' ready slich”
She loves him so and distracted
By her deep emotion toys with the notion
That her love might not be unrequited,
For at the Toast To The Lasses
The men stand tall and raise their glasses
And he looks at her with recognition
As if he shares her intuition
That love is meant to be and he smiles,
And she now even more beguiled
Becomes a wee tim'rous beastie
Afraid he knows the thoughts within in her.
And much to her chagrin she blushes
Least he know that she is wanting.
Blood rushes from head to heart
And as she worships from afar
She begins to down the uisge beatha…
Ceremonies over, he walks to her table
His heart loved up for his mon amour,
And if he were able he would engage her,
But the silly Sassenach
Has downed too much whisky
And is on her back upon the floor.
He leaves her, this handsome brute,
His heart already broken,
His tears splash down and drown her with sorrow
And she racked with guilt
Was left with one blissful memory
For from the floor she could see up his kilt.
I was surprised to see that there was virtually nothing in blogland re Burns night as I tucked into my curried haggis and clapshot – yum yum! I cannot claim Scottish ancestry but do love haggis and the Bard.
A history of the Bard can be found here, details of a Burns Supper here and listen to a recitation of “To A Mouse” here.
With thanks to the good folk at dVerse~Poets Pub Open Night.