Burns Supper
Small font for sheepishness: I have been gone (from LiveJournal) for two weeks or something. I have a LOT to catch up on, I'm sure. ::pre-emptive hugs::
Happy Burns Night! I recited the Selkirk Grace to my students this morning, and tonight my menu was freshly-prepared tatties & neeps along with a mug of Manischewitz vegetable mushroom soup into which I put some Louisiana hot sauce because it was kind of bland. Multicultural! Probably not the most complimentary of flavors, but single, apartment-dwelling slobs with tiny kitchens can't be choosers. With my meal, I read "To A Mouse" because I already knew some of it. Basically it says,
Dear little scared mouse, I'm sorry I plowed up your field. Yes, you steal a little bit of grain from me, but I don't miss it. I think your house is clever and you worked hard on it, but now I'm sorry to say it's broken, the weather is terrible, and you don't have time to make a new one. Just remember, you're not the only one who acts responsibly, makes plans, and then has them blow up in your face. And as bad as you have it, I'm worse off, because I worry about not just the present but the past and the future too!
...but old Rabbie said it with much more charm and skill. Of course.
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!
I doubt na, whiles, 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' waste,
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 mony 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 art 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!
In other news of my beloved Scotland, do not miss these Shetland ponies in custom-knitted cardigans!
This entry was also posted at http://rustydog.dreamwidth.org/1138171.html. You may comment at either place.
Happy Burns Night! I recited the Selkirk Grace to my students this morning, and tonight my menu was freshly-prepared tatties & neeps along with a mug of Manischewitz vegetable mushroom soup into which I put some Louisiana hot sauce because it was kind of bland. Multicultural! Probably not the most complimentary of flavors, but single, apartment-dwelling slobs with tiny kitchens can't be choosers. With my meal, I read "To A Mouse" because I already knew some of it. Basically it says,
Dear little scared mouse, I'm sorry I plowed up your field. Yes, you steal a little bit of grain from me, but I don't miss it. I think your house is clever and you worked hard on it, but now I'm sorry to say it's broken, the weather is terrible, and you don't have time to make a new one. Just remember, you're not the only one who acts responsibly, makes plans, and then has them blow up in your face. And as bad as you have it, I'm worse off, because I worry about not just the present but the past and the future too!
...but old Rabbie said it with much more charm and skill. Of course.
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!
I doubt na, whiles, 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' waste,
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 mony 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 art 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!
In other news of my beloved Scotland, do not miss these Shetland ponies in custom-knitted cardigans!
This entry was also posted at http://rustydog.dreamwidth.org/1138171.html. You may comment at either place.