Burns Night

As we approach Burn’s Night I thought I’d put a rhyme together for our blog…Robsonsworld.

Never short of a word
Always short of a drink
Outspoken, but not by many
And in your face I think.
From the gentle Scot from Edinburgh
To Glasgow’s rougher sort
To the Highlands and the Lowlands
A visit there you ought.
The lassie’s there so bonny
Many with flame red hair
All with a sensuous confidence
Cross them if you dare
The men are mostly solid and strong
That porridge grew them well
With a fearsome pride in their nation
As Jimmy wigs they sell.
A tartan for every family
And rock to take back home
As the piper plays on that shopping street
You never feel alone.
They may be canny, and sup too much
With accents wild and strong
Of pale white face and rosy cheeks
And arms that feel so strong.
Carved out of the North
And built with pride the loyal Scot will stand
Blood brothers to the Northumbrians
And all on Northern land.
Scotland the brave it shall always be
With kilts and sporrans showing
Freezing all that’s underneath
When that North wind gets blowing.
That border there is just a word
We all feel at home up there
As they do when they’re in our midst
As we sit down and share.
So Bless the Scot’s this Burn’s night
With Haggis Pipes and Rhyme
The heart feels warm amongst them
Our brothers for all time.