This is the easiest topic I contribute to and I'll stick with it until 24 January 2019, at which time I hope 'BBC Scotland', 'Scottish Television', and/or 'Alba' will recognise the Bard's birthday the following day with some meaningful contributions - something they didn't do last year - and which sparked off this topic in the first place.
I don't come out "a huff" easy !
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
No sculptured Marble here, no pompous lay,
No storied Urn nor animated bust:
This simple stone directs pale Scotia’s way,
To pour her sorrows o’er the Poet’s dust.
*INSCRIPTION FOR THE HEADSTONE OF FERGUSSON THE POET
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
He clench’d his pamphlets in his fist,
He quoted and he hinted,
Till in a declamation-mist,
His argument, he tint it:
He gap`ed for’t, he grap`ed for’t,
He fand it was awa’, man;
But what his common sense came short,
He eked out wi’ law, man.
*EPIGRAM – LORD ADVOCATE
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
Collected, Harry stood awee,
Then open’d out his arm, man;
His Lordship sat wi’ ruefu’ e’e,
And ey’d the gathering storm, man;
Like wind-driv’n hail it did assail,
Or torrents owre a linn, man;
The Bench sae wise lift up their eyes,
Hauf-wauken’d wi’ the din, man.
EPIGRAM – MR. ERSKINE
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
Fondly remember Burns Night at Saltcoats Public circa 1962.
Our class presented Tam O'Shanter.
Two lines I'll never forget;
- "THESE BREEKS OF MINE MY ONLY PAIR" spoken by a boy (wont name) who was wearing his only breeks!
- "THERE SAT THE DEIL IN SHAPE OF BEAST" - this was my line and coached to point to north east ceiling od the assemble hall. Unfortunately for Mr Bryson (Headmaster) I pointed straight at HIM!
I can still hear everyone laughing. 'Snoop' (Mr Bryson) thankfully took it all in good spirit.
Thanks to my friend Penny
Tho’ something like moisture conglobes in my eye,
Let no one misdeem me disloyal!
A poor friendless wand’rer may well claim a sigh –
Still more, if that wand’rer were royal.
*ADDRESS TO WM. TYTLER, ESQ., OF WOODHOUSELEE
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
Auld chuckie Reekie’s sair distrest,
Down droops her ance weel burnish’d crest,
Nae joy her bonie buskit nest
Can yield ava:
Her darling bird that she lo’es best,
Willie’s awa’.
*LAMENT FOR THE ABSENCE OF WILLIAM CREECH, PUBLISHER
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
!