Anyone going to one this year?? I've got to miss the one I usually go to as I have to work unfortunately.
Just to get in the mood though, thought I'd quote some of Burn's lesser known poems....
Ode Tae a Fart
Oh whit a sleekit horrible beastie
lurks in your belly after the feastie
Jist as you sit doon amang yer kin
There starts tae stir an enormous win'
The neeps 'n'tatties 'n' mushy peas
Start workin' like a gentle breeze
But soon the puddin' wi the sauncie face
Will hae ye blowin 'a' ower the place
Nae matter whit the hell ye dae
A'bodys gonny huv tae pay
Even when ye try tae stifle
It's like a bullet oot a rifle
Ye hawd yer bum ticht tae the chair
An try tae stop the leakin' air
Shiftin' yersel fae cheek tae cheek
An pray tae god it disnae reek
But aw yer efforts go asunder
When oot it comes, a clap 'o thunder
Richochets aroon the room
Michty me a sonic boom!
God Almichty it fairly reeks
Hope a huvnae shit ma breeks
Tae the bog a better scurry
Aw whit the hell, it's no ma worry
A'body roon aboot me chokin'
Wan or twa ur nearly boakin
A'll feel better fur a while
Canny help but raise a smile
"Wis him!" I shout wi accusin' glower
Alas too late, he's just keeled ower
"Ye durty bugger!" they shout and stare
A dinna feel welcome any mair
But where ye go ,let yer win' gang free
Sounds like jist the job tae me
But whit a fuss at Rabbies party
Owe the sake 'O' wan wee farty.
TAM'S MUCKLE TURD
Intae the wids amongst the trees.
Tam bared his erse, his cheeks to ease.
Nae sinner hud his breeks gan doon.
Than shitty flees were swarming roon.
Intae the wind he bared his baws
And from his erse a big keech faws.
The reek it curled amoungst the trees.
‘twis enough tae make the birdies sneeze.
An’ a’ the bees on bended knees,
Got sick a fricht o’ Tams big erse.
Big Tam wis in awfy pain.
It came oot his erse like a nine pund wean.
Thur wis a tear faw fi’ his eee
For a bigger shite you’d never see.
Big Tams erse wis raw an sair.
Says big Tam I’ll shite nae mair.
Yonder it lay amoungst the grit.
A dirty stinkin’ muckle shit.
Yonder it lat si saft, si fresh.
Nae een, nae teeth, nae brains, nae flesh.
I swear it never drew a breath.
Tams Muckle Turd.
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