A wee bit o' Burns

[John Donnelly]

Hi Glenshena,

That does make sense, but - I wonder whether Burns, with all his irony and satire, would have been so cruel as to write that about the wife of a good friend shortly after she had died and left him a widower.
I like to think PT's version is more likely.
JD.

[Penny Tray]

O Death! The poor man’s dearest friend,
The kindest and the best!
Welcome the hour my aged limbs
Are laid with thee at rest!
The great, the wealthy fear thy blow,
From pomp and pleasure torn;
But, oh! A blest relief for those
That weary-laden mourn!

*MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN – A DIRGE

[Penny Tray]

Whoe’er thou art, O reader know
That Death has murder’d Johnie,
An’ here his body lies fu low;
For saul he ne’er had onie.

*EPITAPH ON ‘WEE JOHNIE’

[Penny Tray]

By this, the sun was out o’ sight,
An’ darker gloamin’ brought the night;
The bum-clock humm’d wi’ lazy drone;
The kye stood rowtin’ i’ the loan;
When up they gat an’ shook their lugs,
Rejoic’d they were na men but dogs;
An’ each took aff his several way,
Resolv’d to meet some ither day.

*THE TWA DOGS

[John Donnelly]

Another of my favourites. Always wanted to call my dog Luath, but was never allowed to.
Oh to be henpecked. The saying here is that you're 'pasted behind the wallpaper.'

JD.

[morag]

was never allowed to..are you sure you're yer dad's son?

[Penny Tray]

A bum-clock, incidentally, is "a humming beetle that flies in summer evenings."

[morag]

My big sis and I used to sing 'ye banks' I sang descant...Lord knows where that came from? It worked out well though. Families all brought up singing then, regardless of talent!

[John Donnelly]

was never allowed to..are you sure you're yer dad's son?

You never met Ria.
We always split the decision-making in oor hoose. Ria makes the day-to-day decisions and I get to make the bigger ones. She decides whether to move house, get a new car, furniture, etc. I get to decide whether China becomes a member of the UN Security Council
Seriously, naming the pets was never my job. I never got a look in. I could make suggestions, but decisions were her prerogative.

JD.

[Sarah]

[Penny Tray]

It’s now two months that I’m your debtor,
For your braw, nameless, dateless letter,
Abusin’ me for harsh ill-nature
On holy men,
While deil a hair yoursel’ ye’re better,
But mair profane!

*THIRD EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK

[Penny Tray]

Auld nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her ‘prentice han’ she try’d on man,
An’ then she made the lasses, O.

*GREEN GROW THE RASHES O