Robbie Burns Day!

One of the joys of living in a multicultural city is that we can visit other nationalities' culture with relative ease.  I attended the Robert Burns reading marathon (5 hrs 41 min!) at SFU Harbour Center.

While there are a few Robbie Burns Day celebrations offered this weekend, I opted instead to have dinner at home; haggis made in-store from Jackson's Meat and Deli (2214 W 4th Ave, Vancouver, BC, V6K 1N8.  They have a selection of exotic meats, including camel, ostrich, wild boar, and musk ox), neeps & tatties, and a wee whisky flight (Glenmorangie, Glenlivet, and Laphroaig) from our boat rations.  And a CD of bagpipes! A modest offering that I felt turned out well.

While I had originally thought to post the Address to a Haggis here for being proud and festive, I opted instead for To a Mouse since it brings a tear to "my e'e".

Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie,
O, what 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!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request:
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast,
An' weary Winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald.
To thole the Winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou are 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!

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!