Birlin' In The Boneyard!

Well, Readers, it's January 25th n yi ken whit that means? It means Mr. Robert Burns, late of Alloway, Ayrshire, is, right noo, furiously birlin' in his grave!! It's noo that his eternal rest is disturbed year after year as 10 million haggises are piped in to be cut up wi 'ready slight' and the formulaic Burns' supper is enacted in every corner o the globe.

"warm, reekin, rich!"

He would've hated it, I'm sure! Just think of aw them folks that he would gladly have seen on the end o a bayonet toastin' his guid name and his work! Arch-Tories, Monarchists, Ministers o Kirk n State and No-Voting Bastards aw lining up tae sing his praises noo that he's deid! The mouth that would've damned them aw tae hell is stopped up wi clay! Words that coulda descried and mocked, mute!

Burns in the Boneyard is a lot safer and sanitised than the flesh & blood swagger o the real thing. Gone are the resentments and indignation that he would've hurled to aw the Holy Willies and their ilk whae made him sit on the penitent's stool. Gone the profane banter o the drinking dens as the yill took hold. Gone the bawdy bonhomie and licentious celebration of the Crochallan Fencibles. Gone the Republican sentiments and egalitarian outbursts o the howff.

And if Burns thought the 28 bankrupt posh-boys whae signed Scotland away  tae English gowd were a 'parcel o rogues', what would he have made of and what fury would he have reserved for those who voted 'No' to Scottish Independence for worries about money! It's just as well the poor bastard's deid, my friends, 'cause the shock of September 19th 2014 would've finished him off, for sure!!

Noo he's dust, the Establishment toadies who would've hated him with a vengeance if he were still around, can toast his memory and stick him on tins o shortie! Maybeez that's the fate o aw rebels ; absorbed, claimed, made safe and explained.
The S T O n e d H O L y b L O G g e r has every confidence in his assertion that Burns would've loathed it all.

Or mebbe no. Burns, after all, never got the chance o growing old n comfortable, pegging oot young, as he did. He just missed oot on that high ranking position wi the Excise doon Leith that would've seen him back in Auld Reekie's boozers n parlours conversing wi the best o Edinburgh's 'enlightenment' and flirtin' wi both the mistress o the hoose and the scullery maid! It could've aw been so different if he'd made it back tae Edinburgh wi' siller jinglin' in his pockets! If only those damned debtors had held off for a year or two more....maybeez then, the s T O n e d h O L y B L O g g e R wouldn't be here in the garret o Stoned Holy HQ hammerin' oot this crap. What would Burns' reputation be if, instead o fizzling oot in Dumfries at the age o 37, he'd lived tae 87, old n well off in his big, fancy hoose in Edinburgh's New Town.

Aye, but these are but idle flights o fancy for Burns didnae make it ; And so' is forever fixed the rebel outsider. As a consequence of this he belongs tae the rebels & outsiders ; the dissidents & rabble-rousers; the firebrands & malcontents.

So, gentle readers, bollocks tae Burns Night and January 25th.....but if yi find yirsel on either bank o the sweet Afton as it flows gently on its way tae the Solway Firth, much as it did twa hunnert year ago when the glowin' een o Robbie the Ranter gazed doon upon its glassy waters, raise a glass or doff yir bunnet tae Scotland's ploughman poet and Auld Lang Syne....a more fitting tribute, ahm sure, and one he would've appreciated.


Ladies n Gentleman, Louns n Quines, please be upstanding... I give you Mister Robert Burns, late of Alloway, Ayrshire!

Robin Wiz A Rovin Boy