A Recipe for Burns’ Night

1. A Recipe for Burns’ Night

2. Robert Burns Born on 25th January 1759 in Alloway, Ayrshire, to William Burness, a poor tenant farmer, and Agnes Broun, Robert Burns was the eldest of seven. He spent his youth working his father's farm, but in spite of his poverty he was extremely well read - at the insistence of his father, who employed a tutor for Robert and younger brother Gilbert. At 15 Robert was the principal worker on the farm and this prompted him to start writing in an attempt to find "some kind of counterpoise for his circumstances." It was at this tender age that Burns penned his first verse, "My Handsome Nell", which was an ode to the other subjects that dominated his life, Whisky and the ladies.

3. He'll hae misfortunes great and sma', But aye a heart aboon them a'; He'll be a credit till us a'. We'll a' be proud o' Robin. But sure as three times three mak nine, I see by ilka score and line, This chap will dearly like our kin', So leez me on thee, Robin. Guid faith, quo' scho, I doubt you, Sir, Ye gar the lasses lie aspar, But twenty fauts ye may hae waur, So blessings on thee, Robin! Robin was a rovin' boy, Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin'; Robin was a rovin' boy, Rantin' rovin' Robin. • Rantin', rovin', Robin There was a lad was born in Kyle, But what'n a day o' what'n a style I doubt it's hardly worth the while To be sae nice wi' Robin. Robin was a rovin' boy, Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin'; Robin was a rovin' boy, Rantin' rovin' Robin. Our monarch's hindmost year but ane Was five-and-twenty days begun, 'Twas then a blast o' Janwar win' Blew hansel in on Robin. The gossip keekit in his loof, Quo' scho, Wha lives will see the proof, This waly boy will be nae coof, I think we'll ca' him Robin. Possibly written in flippant celebration of Burns' 28th birthday, 'Robin' refers to himself

4. Early Years When his father died in 1784, Robert and his brother became partners in the farm. However, Robert was more interested in the romantic nature of poetry than the arduous graft of ploughing and, having had some misadventures with the ladies (resulting in several illegitimate children, including twins to the woman who would become his wife, Jean Armour), he planned to escape to the safer, sunnier climes of the West Indies.

5. A Man's A Man For A' That Is there for honest povertyThat hangs his head and a' that?The coward slave, we pass him byWe daur be puir for a' that.For a' that, and a' thatOur toils obscure, and a' thatThe rank is but the guinea's stampThe man's the gowd for a' that. Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lordWha struts, and stares and a' thatTho' hundreds worship at his wordHe's but a coof for a' that.For a' that, and a' thatHis ribbon, star and a' thatthe man o' independence mindHe looks and laughs at a' that. A king can make a belted knightA marquis, duke and a' thatBut an honest man's aboon his michtGude faith, he maunna fa' all thatFor a' that, and a' thatTheir dignities and a' thatThe pith o' sense and pride o' worthAre higher ranks than a' that. Then let us pray that come it mayAs come it will for a' thatThat sense and worth o'er a' the earthMay bear the gree and a' thatFor a' that, and a' thatIt's coming yet, for a' thatWhen man to man the world o'erShall brithers be for a' that.

6. To Edinburgh However, at the point of abandoning farming, his first collection "Poems- Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect - Kilmarnock Edition" (a set of poems essentially based on a broken love affair), was published and received much critical acclaim. This, together with pride of parenthood, made him stay in Scotland. He moved around the country, eventually arriving in Edinburgh, where he mingled in the illustrious circles of the artists and writers who were agog at the "Ploughman Poet."

7. Annie Laurie Maxwelton's braes are bonnieWhere early fa's the dewAnd 'twas there that Annie LaurieGave me her promise true.Gave me her promise trueWhich ne'er forgot will beAnd for bonnie Annie LaurieI'd lay me doon and die. Her brow is like the snowdriftHer throat is like the swanHer face it is the fairestThat e'er the sun shone on.That e'er the sun shone onAnd dark blue is her e'eAnd for bonnie Annie LaurieI'd lay me doon and die. Like dew on th'gowan lyingIs th' fa' o'her fairy feetAnd like the winds in summer sighingHer voice is low and sweet.Her voice is low and sweetAnd she's a' the world to meAnd for bonnie Annie LaurieI'd lay me doon and die.

8. Fame In a matter of weeks he was transformed from local hero to a national celebrity, fussed over by the Edinburgh literati of the day, and Jean Armour's father allowed her to marry him, now that he was no longer a lowly wordsmith. Alas, the trappings of fame did not bring fortune and he took up a job as an exciseman to supplement the meagre income. Whilst collecting taxes he continued to write, contributing songs to the likes of James Johnston's "Scot's Musical Museum" and George Thomson's "Select Collection of Original Scottish Airs." In all, more than 400 of Burns' songs are still in existence.

9. Scots Wha Hae Wi' Wallace Bled Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bledScots, wham Bruce has aften ledWelcome to your gory bedOr to victory!Now's the day an' now's the hourSee the front of battle lourSee approach proud Edward's pow'rChains and slavery! Wha would be a traitor knave?Wha would fill a coward's grave?Wha sae base as be a slave?Let him turn and flee!Wha for Scotland's king an' lawFreedom's sword would strongly drawFreeman stand and freeman fa'Let him on wi' me! By oppression's woes and painsBy your sons in servile chainsWe will drain our dearest veinsBut they shall be free.Lay the proud usurpers low!Tyrants fall in ev'ry foeLiberty's in every blowLet us do or die! Written after Burns visited the field of battle at Bannockburn, near Stirlingon 26th August 1787, where Robert the Bruce won a temporary liberty forScotland from King Edward II of England

10. The Masterpieces The last years of Burns' life were devoted to penning great poetic masterpieces such as The Lea Rig, Tam O'Shanter and a Red, Red Rose. He died on 21st July 1796 aged 37 of heart disease exacerbated by the hard manual work he undertook when he was young. His death occurred on the same day as his wife Jean gave birth to his last son, Maxwell.

11. Tam O’Shanter WHEN chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neebors, neebors meet; As market-days are wearing late, An folk begin to tak the gate; While we sit bousing at the nappy, An getting fou and unco happy, We think na on the lang Scots miles, The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles, That lie between us and our hame, Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame, Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm… …Now, wha this tale o truth shall read, Ilk man, and mother's son, take heed: Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd, Or cutty sarks rin in your mind,Think! ye may buy the joys o'er dear:Remember Tam o Shanter's mare Composed to accompany an engraving of Alloway Kirk.Loosely based on Douglas Graham of Shanter whose wife Helen was a superstitious shrew.He was prone to drunkenness on market day, and on one such occasion the wags of Ayrclipped his horses tail - a fact he explained away by a story of witches which mollified his incredulous wife

12. My Love Is Like A Red Red Rose Oh, my love is like a red, red roseThat's newly sprung in JuneOh, my love is like a melodyThat's sweetly played in tuneAs fair art thou, my bonnie lass,So deep in love am IAnd I will love thee still, my dear,Till all the seas gang dry.Till all the seas gang dry, my dear,Till all the seas gang dryAnd I will love thee still, my dear,Till all the seas gang dry. 'Til all the seas gang dry my, my dearAnd the rocks melt with the sunAnd I will love thee still, my dearWhile the sands of life shall runBut faretheewell, my only loveOh, faretheewell a whileAnd I will come again, my loveTho' 't were ten thousand mileTho' 't were ten thousand mile, my loveTho' 't were ten thousand mileAnd I will come again, my loveTho' 't were ten thousand mile. An old ballad reworked by Burns, first published by Pietro Urbani in April 1794

13. Immortal Memory On the day of his burial more than 10,000 people came to watch and pay their respects. However, his popularity then was nothing compared to the heights it has reached since.On the anniversary of his birth, Scots both at home and abroad celebrate Robert Burns with a supper, where they address the haggis, the ladies and whisky. A celebration which would undoubtedly make him proud.

14. Auld Lang Syne Should auld acquaintance be forgotAnd never brought to mind?Should auld acquaintance be forgotAnd days of auld lang syne? ChorusFor auld lang syne, my dear,For auld lang syneWe'll tak' a cup o' kindness yetFor auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braesAnd pu'd the gowans fineBut we've wander'd mony a weary footSin' auld lang syne. We twa hae paidl't in the burnFrae morning sun till dineBut seas between us braid hae roar'dSin' auld lang syne. And surely ye'll be your pint stoupAnd surely I'll be mineAnd we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yetFor auld lang syne. A traditional ballad reworked by Burns, the tune had been in print since 1700.Described by the poet as 'the old song of the olden times, and which has never been in printnor even in manuscript, until I took it down from an old man's singing'.

15. Burns’ Night Tradition The Haggis 1 sheep's pluck (stomach bag) 2 lb.. dry oatmeal 1 lb. suet 1 lb. lamb's liver 2 1/2 cups stock 1 large chopped onion 1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper, Jamaica pepper and salt

16. Address to a Haggis • Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!Aboon them a' ye tak your place,Painch, tripe, or thairm:Weel are ye wordy of a graceAs lang's my arm. • The groaning trencher there ye fill,Your hurdies like a distant hill,Your pin wad help to mend a millIn time o need,While thro your pores the dews distilLike amber bead. • His knife see rustic Labour dight,An cut you up wi ready slight,Trenching your gushing entrails bright,Like onie ditch;And then, O what a glorious sight,Warm-reekin, rich! • Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyveAre bent like drums;The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,'Bethankit' hums. • Is there that owre his French ragout,Or olio that wad staw a sow,Or fricassee wad mak her spewWi perfect sconner,Looks down wi sneering, scornfu viewOn sic a dinner? • But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,The trembling earth resounds his tread,Clap in his walie nieve a blade,He'll make it whissle;An legs an arms, an heads will sned,Like taps o thrissle. • Poor devil! see him owre his trash,As feckless as a wither'd rash,His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,His nieve a nit:Thro bloody flood or field to dash,O how unfit! • Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,And dish them out their bill o fare,Auld Scotland wants nae skinking wareThat jaups in luggies:But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,Gie her a Haggis The closing stanza was composed extempore during a dinner at the home ofJohn Morrison, a Mauchline cabinet-maker, and completed soon after Burns arrived in Edinburgh

17. Selkirk Grace Some hae meat, and canna eat, And some wad eat that want it ; But we hae meat and we can eat, And sae the Lord be thankit Probably dating from the 17th Century, delivered by Burns in the presenceof the Earl of Selkirk, at Kirkudbright

18. Burns’ Night Itinerary Selkirk Grace Starter Piping in the Haggis Address to the Haggis Main Course The Immortal Memory Pudding Toast to the Lassies Lassies’ Reply