return to the Vault 12th Annual Burns Supper On February 2, 50 stalwarts gathered on the patio to celebrate the memory of Robert Burns, Scotland's National Bard with song, stories, toasts and, of course, Haggis. Tom and Campbell and the Honoured Guest Tim summons the Haggis John Doherty's Toast to the Lassies Ever since the dark day Adam awoke to find he was missing a rib, the lads have been faced with the conundrum of how to best deal with and treat the lassies. Even with all the advances in science and technology through the ages, little (if any) progress has been made. I've heard it said that, "Marriage is like a game of bridge: if you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a strong hand" . . . Well, I wouldn't know about that as I've never played that game. I do know that it's not what you say to a lassie so much as it is how and when to say it. Timing seems to be important for some reason. I also know that I love to watch the lassies: the way they move; the way they brush their hair (nowadays that makes me jealous for some reason); the way they . . . anything! I suspect it was the same for Rabbie and for most of the lads. In fact, it's why sports like hockey and football were invented. They give us something to do other than stare at the lassies all day long. That said, on your feet, lads. Give your lassie a good long stare and thank our lucky stars that they are with us tonight. Raise your glasses in a toast: TO THE LASSIES! Gale Burt's Lassies' Reply I've been coming to these Burns Suppers at Hannegan's for the past 4 or 5 years, but I still stand before you a Rabbie Burns novice. I never paid much attention to him while I was gooing to school. I know he is famous for writing Auld Lang Syne and maybe a few others, but that's about it. You see, I wasn't born in Scotland like many of you were. I was born here in the States and my background is Italian and German. Try as I may, I've never been able to find a "Clan Bonelli" or a "Clan Engelmann" tent anywhere at the Highland Games. In fact, if it weren't for Ian on Tuesdays, Fridays and maybe twice on Sundays, there'd be no Scottish in me at all !! But enough about me. I was asked to give the Lassies' Reply and I agreed to give it my best shot. So here goes . . . It's only right we toast the lads, the whole array of them. They're wise and loving and attentive. Each and every one a gem. They take us on such scenic trips To lands remote and wide. They never ask directions, They just trust their "inner guide" And helpful? Where else can you find Such creatures who excel At eating, drinking, watching sports, And taking naps so well! Oh, they help us with the household chores, At least they think they do, By placing dishes in the sink And leaving doors askew. But yardwork, that's their real forte. When leaves need blowing and grass needs mowing, They get right up and say, "Sorry, honey, I gotta get going!" For they hear a different inner voioce And rush to meet its beckoning calls. And off they go with cart and caddy To carry sticks and chase little white balls. And what about the bonding That takes place between these guys? When they brag about their cars and wealth Like it's a measure of their "manly size". Ah, but when these lads ask us to dance, It sets our hearts awhirl. It makes us feel so pretty And so proud to be their girls. It makes it easy to forget The mess he made on Sunday Or the car that he forgot to wash Or how loud he snored on Monday. Yes, these lads are quite the catch. They're handsome and they're strong. They make us feel so safe and warm In their arms where we belong. So, before another minute passes, Let's all stand and raise our glasses In a toast to lads from lasses, And get them all up off their asses!! The Immortal Memory This year we had a special treat: our first trans-Atlantic speech. Written by our good friend Jamie Muir from the wilds of Sutherland and emailed to us. Jamie was unable to make it over in time for the Supper, so his wife Wendy, graciously read his speech. This is supposed to be the keynote address of this or any other Burns night celebration. The intent is to deliver a spell-binding oratory on the life of Robert Burns His literary genius, his politics, his highs and lows, his human frailty and - most importantly - his nationalism are the enduring themes. The speech must bridge the dangerous chasm between serious intent and sparkling wit, painting a colourful picture of Scotland's beloved Bard. All this in about 10-12 minutes. Caveat: There is no such Scottish poet known as Bobbie Burns.Mention this in Scotland and the nearest you will get to burns is theskin grafting unit in any of the major hospitals in the country espesciallyGlasgow. Early life Robert Burns was born on January 25, 1759 in the village of Alloway near Ayr in the Southern Lowlands of Scotland. The American Declaration of Independence occurred in 1776. I am unaware if the two are connected. However it is important to note that his birth is almost 250 years ago (249 to be exact) and the context of life then and now would make the world we live in today probably unrecognisable to Burns. 249 years ago there was a farming revolution on the go, the population was increasing at a tremendous rate, inflation was rocketing, the formal education system was for but a few and there was the situation with regards to gender equality, or rather inequality. Upon reflection maybe there are some things he would recognise. He came from a relatively poor, tenant-farmer background, although he received a good education and read avidly as a youngster. It is during his years as a teenager and young man working on farms that he developed some of the passions that would colour the rest of his life, poetry and nature. He was also familiar with the delights of Bacchus and the fairer sex. Whether he was gifted these latter two talents or acquired them we shall never know for sure. However with 15 children, 9 in wedlock and 6 not, it seems to have been a mixture of both. This really leads into Burns reputation which has been built over the last 240 years or so, starting with a Dr. Currie in 1800 and continued by so many ever since. Burn's superior officer in the Excise (a post he held in his later life) wrote in 1818 "It is much regretted that Dr. Currie's life of Burns has become a text book for succeeding commentators, who have, by the aid of their own fancies, amplified, exaggerated, and filled up the outlines he has sketched, and, in truth, left it in such a state as to provoke an exercise of that description.” This can be seen, up to and as late as 1999, when Burns was votedthe Scot of the Millennium by the establishment figures of 'Who's Who'. The Headlines in the Newspapers included such gems as "He may have been a legendary ladies man and notorious drinker but he is still the man of the Millennium." To be true there is some truth in that, but the range, quality and volume of his work far outweigh whatever his human frailties were. His work has been read, studied, quoted and translated into so many languages he is not just a Scottish poet but a world poet. Indeed so close is he to Chinese thought they have even suggested he was one of their race. He certainly was man of many parts and many of them contradictory to say the least: LOVER and PHILANDERER ROMANTIC and REALIST NATIONALIST and INTERNATIONALIST RADICAL and DEFIANT There is of course no time to cover all of these in any depth but I hope to expand a little on one or two. The Philandering side of Burns is shown clearly in many of his letters, and in sources like "The Merry Muses of Caledonia". However I will pass over that in favour of his ROMANTIC side. At the age of 15 perhaps showing his early liking of the ladies he penned "Handsome Nell" : Handsome Nell A bonnie lass, I will confess, Is pleasant to the e'e; But without some better qualities She's no the lass for me Burns was ever the Lover and in 1785 he met and married perhaps themost famous and long-suffering of his female companions, JeanArmour. The union was hotly contested by Jean’s father - until, that is, the poet received public acclaim. Burns, ever the Romantic, planned to run away to Jamaica with his lover, but his plan was foiled eventually by the advent of his own fame in Scotland. A great example of the Lover and Romantic is "O Were I on Parnassus Hill" which he wrote to Jean, not long after they were married. He wrote it -- as he put it "Made out as a compliment to Mrs. Burns" "O Were I on Parnassus Hill": Then come sweet muse inspire my lay! For a' the lee lang Simmer's day I couldna sing, I couldna say, How much how dear I love thee. I see thee dancing o'er the green, Thy waist sae gimp thy limbs sae clean, Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een- By Heav'n and Earth I love thee! Fame, but not necessarily fortune, followed in the wake of Burns’s first publication: "Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect". The collection contains many of his best loved poems, including "The Cotter’s Saturday Night", "To a Louse" and "To a Mouse". "To a Mouse" is I believe a great example of Burns the Romantic and the Realist. Given the harshness of farming in those days how many would have stopped when coming upon a mouse with his plough and pen such lines as Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murd'ring 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! Many, however, would contest the depiction of Burns as the "heaven-taught ploughman", an innocent whose poetic inspiration was pure and direct from the divine. Such accounts of Burns conveniently gloss over his high level of education, his familiarity with literary mores and his often radical political convictions Burns’s poetry at this time chopped and changed between English and Scots and this perhaps reflected his own ambivalent feelings towards the Edinburgh bourgeoisie. It was on his return to farming near Dumfries in 1788 that he penned his masterpiece in the Scots vernacular, "Tam O’Shanter" (1790). Around this time Burns was also contributing to the "The Scots Musical Museum" with immortal songs like "Auld Lang Syne" and "My Luve is Like a Red Red Rose". My Luve is Like a Red Red Rose: O, my luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June. O, my luve's like the melodie, That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I, And I will luve thee still, my Dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. In 1789 the poet became an Excise Officer, a fact that probably had many of his drinking partners choking on their ale and provided yet another of the contradictions that separated Burns life from his poetry. However, supporting his wife and family required funds, so Burns had to balance his increasingly radical political views with the practicalities of life. He remained an Excise Officer until his death, although he had enough humility to recognise the irony of his own situation in the poem "The De’ils Awa’ Wi’ The Exciseman", in which the whole community rejoices as the Devil appears to claim the local Excise Officer as his own. But back to the contrasts….. The Nationalist and the Internationalist Burns was prolific in output throughout most of his life and in 1795 ( a year before his death at 37 ) he sent his publisher For a’ that and a’ that, a song which vocalised his support for the political radicalism which was beginning to infiltrate British society, especially through Thomas Paine’s controversial work, "The Rights of Man". Although these notions of equality and liberty were already sweeping through the western world in the light of the turmoil of both the French and American Revolutions, Burns poetry had always warmed to these ideals with a peculiarly Scottish lilt. After all, the rhetoric of freedom and equality had been prevalent in Scottish literature since the times of the Robert the Bruce and William Wallace. The Internationalist produced a world class and indeed world renowned statement, which was sung at the launch the Scottish parliament in 1999. The last verse of "A Man’s A Man for A That": Then let us pray that come it may (As come it will for a' that) That sense and worth o'er a'the earth Shall bear the gree for a' that For a' that and a' that It's comin' yet for a' that That man to man the world o'er Shall brithers be for a' that. Are we any nearer to achieving that today? I think we are but with a fair few miles still to go. This Internationalist penned the most Nationalist of views, sometimes a proud nationalism and at other timesa bitter nationalism. The proud nationalist "Scots Wha Hae" Wha can be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a cowards grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw? Freeman stand or freeman fa' Let him follow me! Every new year the world starts off the year by rejoicing in the words rescued and reworked by Burns. There is no better memorial to the man than the words of "Auld Lang Syne". We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For Auld Lang Syne. I ask you all...Scot or not...to charge your glasses and be upstanding to drink a toast to the Immortal Memory of Robert Burns.