Burns Night

On 25th January, here in Scotland we celebrate the birth of Robert Burns (1759-1796).

I have made cock-a-leekie soup. The haggis is steaming, and the potatoes and neeps (turnip/swede) are both about to be mashed and served.

It is traditional to "do a turn" at a Burns Supper. My usual contribution is to sing my favourite Burns Song "John Anderson, my Jo".

I inherited my leather-backed copy of Robert Burns Poetical Works from my Great Aunt Dorothy. It is the Albion Edition by Frederick Warne and Co, a book to treasure.

JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snow;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo!

John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither;
And monie a canty day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.


jo] sweetheart. brent] smooth, unwrinkled. beld] bald. pow] pate. canty] cheerful.