Robert Burns

Today is the 248th anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns, Scotland's famous poet and writer. Contrary to popular belief, Burns was able to write in the King's English as well as Scots dialect. Unlike last year, I will not be indulging in haggis (stuffed sheep stomach), although the neeps and tatties [potatoes and turnips] will feature.

I'll copy Burns's most famous poem here:

Is there, for honest poverty
That hings his head, and a' that;
The coward-slave we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, and a' that
Our toils obscure, and a' that
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The Man's the gowd for a' that -

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, and a' that,
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A Man's a man for a' that.
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show and a' that;
The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that. -

Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a' that,
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth
Shall bear the gree, and a' that.
For a' that and a' that.
It's comin yet for a' that
That Man to Man the warld o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that