Robert Burns - bannockburn

at bannockburn the english lay
the scots they were not nay far away
but waited for the break o' day
that glinted in the east

but soon the sun broke through the heath
and lighted up that field of death
when Bruce, wi' saul-inspiring breath
his heralds thus addressed

scots,wha hae wi wallace bled
scots,wham Bruce has aften led
welcome to your glory bed
or to victorie!

wha for scotlands king and law
freedom's sword will strongly draw
freenan stand or freeman fa!
let him follow me

by oppression's woes and pains
by your son's in servile chains
we will drain our deepest veins
but they shall be free!

lay the proud upsurpers low
tyrants fall in every foe
liberty's in every blow
LET US DO OR DIE!

r.i.p mr. burns!

great poem.my clan were at bannockburn,good day at the office.happy burns night.

reply to post by reficul


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 grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut ye 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 strech an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve,
Are bent like drums;
Then 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 spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

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' bluidy flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

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.

Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o 'fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,
Gie her a Haggis!

Without wishing to offend the Scots on here, Robert Burns is one of the worst poets it has ever been my displeasure to hear. There are many truly wonderful things to celebrate about Scotland - it beats me why they chose such a shocking poet!

reply to post by mainidh


aye! up yer kilt! a tip o' tha glass to ya, and a spill for robert as well!
enjoy your haggis tonite!

And as you seem to want to bash us English , let me respond with a poem from another Scottish poet - the Great McGonagall:

'Twas on the 9th of September, a very beautiful day,
That a numerous English army came in grand array,
And pitched their tents on Flodden field so green
In the year of our Lord fifteen hundred and thirteen.
And on the ridge of Braxton hill the Scottish army lay,
All beautifully arrayed, and eager for the fray,
And near by stood their noble king on that eventful day,
With a sad and heavy heart, but in it no dismay.
And around him were his nobles, both in church and state,
And they felt a little dispirited regarding the king's fate;
For the independence of bonnie Scotland was at stake,
And if they lost the battle, many a heart would break.
And as King James viewed the enemy he really wondered,
Because he saw by them he was greatly outnumbered,
And he knew that the struggle would be desperate to the last,
And for Scotland's weal or woe the die was cast.
The silence of the gathered armies was very still
Until some horsemen began to gallop about the brow of the hill,
Then from rank to rank the signal for attack quickly flew,
And each man in haste to his comrade closely drew.
Then the Scottish artillery opened with a fearful cannonade;
But the English army seemed to be not the least afraid,
And they quickly answered them by their cannon on the plain;
While innocent blood did flow, just like a flood of rain.
But the artillery practice very soon did cease,
Then foe met foe foot to foot, and the havoc did increase,
And, with a wild slogan cry, the Highlanders bounded down the hill,
And many of the English vanguard, with their claymores, they did kill.
Then, taken by surprise and the suddenness of the attack,
The vanguard of the English army instantly fell back,
But rallied again immediately-- to be beaten back once more,
Whilst beneath the Highlanders' claymores they fell by the score.
But a large body of horsemen came to the rescue,
And the wing of the Scottish army they soon did subdue;
Then swords and spears clashed on every side around,
While the still air was filled with a death-wailing sound.
Then King James thought he'd strike an effective blow-
So he ordered his bodyguard to the plain below,
And all the nobles that were in his train,
To engage the foe hand to hand on that bloody plain.
And to them the din of battle was only a shout of glory:
But for their noble king they felt a little sorry,
Because they knew he was sacrificing a strong position,
Which was to his army a very great acquisition.
But King James was resolved to have his own will,
And he wouldn't allow the English to come up the hill,
Because he thought he wasn't matching himself equally against the foe;
So the nobles agreed to follow their leader for weal or woe.
'Twas then they plunged down into the thick of the fight,
And the king fought like a lion with all his might;
And in his cause he saw his nobles falling on every side around,
While he himself had received a very severe wound.
And the English archers were pouring in their shafts like hail
And swords and spears were shivered against coats of mail,
And the king was manfully engaged contesting every inch of ground,
While the cries of the dying ascended up to heaven with a pitiful sound.
And still around the king the battle fiercely raged,
While his devoted followers were hotly engaged,
And the dead and the dying were piled high all around,
And alas! the brave king had received the second wound.
The Scottish army was composed of men from various northern isles,
Who had travelled, no doubt, hundreds of miles;
And with hunger and fatigue many were like to faint,
But the brave heroes uttered no complaint.
And heroically they fought that day on behalf of their king,
Whilst around him they formed a solid ring;
And the king was the hero of the fight,
Cutting, hacking, and slashing left and right.
But alas! they were not proof against the weapons of the foe,
Which filled their hearts with despair and woe;
And, not able to maintain their close form, they were beaten back,
And Lennox and Argyle, their leaders, were slain, alack!
And the field became so slippery with blood they could scarcely stand,
But in their stocking-feet they fought hand to hand,
And on both sides men fell like wheat before the mower,
While the cheers from both armies made a hideous roar.
Then King James he waved his sword on high,
And cried, "Scotsmen, forward! and make the Saxons fly;
And remember Scotland's independence is at stake,
So charge them boldly for Scotland's sake."
So grooms, lords, and knights fought all alike,
And hard blows for bonnie Scotland they did strike,
And swords and spears loudly did clatter,
And innocent blood did flow like water.
But alas! the king and his nobles fought in vain,
And by an English billman the king was slain;
Then a mighty cheer from the English told Scotland's power had fled,
And King James the Fourth of Scotland, alas! was dead!

reply to post by Flavian


well aren't we a brave soul! we must be pretty bored over there in jolly old england!
i'm sure your looking for many responses to keep you occupied (it worked on me!)
next you'll say yeats was illiterate!

reply to post by reficul


Nothing wrong with Yeats - like i said there is loads to be proud of and celebrate up in Scotland. Just don't get the love for Burns - totally rubbish poet.

It would almost be like us in England in, say, 150 years, celebrating the writing of N Dubz! And then subjecting the rest of the world to it every year for a night..... terrifying prospect isn't it!

Do i take it you also don't approve of the McGonegall poem then? Seemed a fair response to be honest.......

reply to post by Flavian


no,his poetry is fine,but i don't see the point of bashing a whole race because they have pride in a national symbol!
that is what robert burns is. be he good or bad. his writings and poems remind the scots of our history and strife.
and to celebrate our stubborness and willing to fight.
by the way,when are you blokes gonna give us back our stone?!!!

reply to post by reficul


You can have it now if you like - Queenie has updated and got a vibrating lazy boy type version!

Didn't mean to bash Scotland - just Burns. Think i've been forced to attend too many Burns nights but my god has it scarred me for life!

Enjoy the evening to any Scots planning on going out (or even staying in) - just don't waste your time trying to convince me he was a decent poet!

And im sorry for the McGonagall, i just couldn't resist.

reply to post by Flavian


ha ha ha! respect limey,you made me smile!
peace!

reply to post by reficul


Hahaha, you know in aus, we CAN get haggis!!

One shop near me, brilliant!!



slante!
(ooh thats irish, i think whats Scottish for cheers?)

reply to post by mainidh


ha ha! i can gat haggis too,but its only me and my room mate, and thats alot to eat!!!
and its 'slainte' and it is scottish