Loughborough Burns Night – 21 January 2023
Tonight, four couples from Mansfield (five, if you include Peter and Julie) went down to The Yew Lodge Hotel in Kegworth to join in the annual Burns Night celebration hosted by Loughborough Circle. A good number of brothers, wives, and guests were present from across all parts of the Province.
After being piped in by a fully kilted piper and parading around the room with the bagpipes and haggis, Brother President Tom McInally “addressed the haggis” with the immortal words of the Scottish Bard:
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 o’ 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 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 belyve
Are 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 make 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’ bloody 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!
As might be expected, the meal consisted of mainly Scottish dishes:
Cock-a-Leekie-Soup or Smoked Salmon as starters, followed by Haggis, Neeps & Tatties, Braised Blade of Beef or Smoked Haddock Risotto as main courses, and Cranachan as dessert (with other vegetarian alternatives on offer for each course) and regular top-ups of Glenlivet Malt Whisky to smooth the way for all that food.
After the meal, Bro Tom said a few words of welcome to the gathering, and invited Bro Karol to respond. For his speech, Karol had chosen to read a poem by William Dixon (W.D.) Cocker (1886-1970), a renowned poet who wrote in the style of Robbie Burns. The poem, Jonah, retells the biblical story in the Galloway vernacular known as “Braid Scots” with great humour as befits the memory of Robert Burns.
Jonah Lang syne a ship ance sailed the seas An’ skelped alang afore the breeze The prophet Jonah was on board, Whaur he had gane to jink the Lord Wha’d sent him on a journey lang. He was baith feart and sweert to gang, But faith! the Lord’s no easy jooket, An’ Jonah for his wrath was bookit. A furious storm cam’ fell and fast, The ship fair birled in the blast. Bang went the sails like paper pokes, Doon wi’ stramash cam’ spars an’ blocks. Crack went the masts like twigs o’ willow, Clear ower the deck green rushed the billow. Tits! said the captain what’s gaen wrang? Here’s a bit job will keep us thrang A’ haun’s on deck! Haud fast the tiller! Anither sea like that would fill her. Keep her neb tilt’t! Sned lowse the graith! Pit up a prayer, some man o’ faith! The Crew a’ loupit to obey, An’ Jonah was detailed to pray. (The prophet looked a thowless chiel Wha could dae nocht but prayin’ weel.) Sae, grippin’ fast the airn stanchions, He mantled prayers wi’ guilty conscience. Then did the sea richt gurly rise, The ship whiles sklimp the very skies, Dived frae the tap o’ towerin’ bens, Deep into fearsome howes o’ glens. Sic waves, sic win’ sic wild commotion, The Lord’s fell curse was on the ocean. The captain said: Losh! Jonah mannie, There’s some yin on this brig no’ canny. Puir Jonah boded some dreid fate, An’ cried: “I’ll wager it’s the mate.” The skipper coudna thole a clype; He garred the bo’sun soond his pipe. The crew, gey dowf, cam’ roon’ aboot: “Whase wyte it is we’ll sune fin’ oot.” An there on that unchancy brig He counted them like weans at tig; “A-zeenty-teenty-figgity-fell.” When Jonah heard that warlock’s spell The cauld sweet gathered on his broo, Nae doonricht lee could save him noo. He cried: “I’ve sinned against the Lord Ye’ll ha’e to heeze me clean ower board!” They took his word for’t, weel content, Splash, ower his wilkies, in he went. He sank, he rose wi’ feckless splatter, A deid caulm smoored the angry watter. The crew keeked ower to watch him sprachle, A michty whale near haun, did wachle. Soomin’ his best, speered pechin’ Jonah: “Hoo faur is’t, think ye, to Iona?” Sma’ hope! The whale wi’ muckle gab Jist ganted at him an’ made grab. Three days an’ nichts in that whale’s belly, A ludgin’ dowie, dark an’ smelly, Puir Jonah grat, an’ rued his fibs, An’ dirled on the fish’s ribs. But though he was a waefu’ chappie the big fish tae was faur frae happy; Frae Jonah’s dunts it gat nae ease, Its wame felt like a bike o’ bees. It groaned like some volcanic mountain, It spouted heich as ony fountain. At prophets an’ sich like, nae wunnder, It took an everlastin’ skunner Wi’ mony a bock an’ mony a hoast It ploutered roon alang the coast, Till, dootless at the Lord’s command, It spewed the prophet on dry land. We’re no tel’t whaur it set him doon, At Gourock, Rothesay or Dunoon, But aye in future Jonah kent To gang the errands he was sent. |
To round off the entertainment, our own Brother Greig volunteered to sing us a Scottish ballad written by Robert Burns, Ye banks and braes, which was universally acclaimed by all present.
Bro Tom then used the opportunity to explain the significance of the various kilts and the purpose of the sgian dubh (pronounced skeen doo) which all Scotsmen wear in their sock.
His wife, Judith, rounded off the evening with a vote of thanks to Tom who has been President for two years, including the tail end of the pandemic, and who has also suffered some ill health in the last few years but fortunately is now much better.
As always, this proved to be a wonderful night where old friends from across Province 15 come together to celebrate and catch up.
