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Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Bakerina’s Poetry Corner III

Dear friends, since it is well after midnight in Scotland, I can safely say happy birthday to one of my favorite men, Robert Burns.  I can also say thank you to another of my favorite men, who saw me looking sad and forlorn one day and decided that I needed a little consolation, a little love in a jar, a little more love in the form of a wide-mouthed jar filled with the best blackberry jam I have ever had the privilege of eating, and a little chocolate to perk up the endorphins.  Best of all, I can say it all by way of Mr. Robert Burns's poem, which begins with probably the most famous, and definitely most fun to recite, couplet in Scottish poetry.

To A Mouse. 

Wee sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an chase thee,
Wi murdering pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion.
An fellow mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve:
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma request;
I'll get a blessin wi the lave,
An never miss't!

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An naething, now, to big a new ane,
O foggage green!
An bleak December's win's ensuin.
Baith snell an keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an waste,
An weary winter comin fast.
An cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro thy cell.

That wee bit heap o leaves an stibble,
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble.
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o mice an men
Gang aft agley,
An lea'e us nought but grief an pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An forward, tho I canna see,
I guess an fear!

(A postscript to my favorite sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie:  this would be the point where I would put up the link to your blog and encourage people to follow it.  It's very difficult to do this when you don't give me a blog to which to link.  Dude, what do I have to do to get you to say yes?)

Posted by Bakerina at 12:58 AM in valentines • (1) Comments • (0) Trackbacks

’fraid not.  This tim’rous beastie is far too shy to start a blog.  What if no one liked me?  And on top of that I cannot possibly afford the time-sink of further ‘net addiction. 

Best I remain an occasional guest as long as the beautiful and talented hostesses here and other places indulge me and keep tempting me out of my hidey-hole with tastey tidbits.

(Raising a glass of good scotch to Mr. Burns and to all)

Cheers,

mouse on 01/25/05 at 11:18 AM  
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