We hosted an entertaining Burns Supper on Friday night. Along with the address to the haggis piped in by our downstair’s neighbour (and which proved to be quite tasty) many Burns poems (my personal favourite being the epic Tam ‘o Shanter accompanied by howling wind and a crackling fire) and even some late night singing. The highlight was the address to the , at very late notice and performed beautifully by our friend Jude. She has kindly permitted me to reproduce it here (all copyrights retained etc etc) – it captures the Glasgow patios perfectly – let me know if you need a translation 😉
Tae the Laddies – Judith Williams
The notice tae toast ye’s, wis affy wee,
A toast tae the laddies, michty me.
Witherin’ aboot the lads is nae herd when they cannae hear,
But takin’ aboot them’s different, frum when they’re here.
The best o men are hard tae beat,
And the worst oh men dae the beatin’,
There’s the kind that leave their ladies wahrm,
And the kind that leaves them greetin’.
There’s lads wi fitball fetishes and lads that like tae fight,
Don’t bore us wi the scores lads – fur we dinnae gie a shite!
But even if they’re drunk and fat,
A mans a man fur aw that.
Some men are bound tae wind ye up, and some’ll let ye doon,
Snoring, steaming, mockit or moanin’ in the toon.
Just gonnae no say that cauld is flu or that your flu is cancer,
Ye’ll reduce yer sympathy tenfold and be known as a chancer.
And if yer efter nookie then hear’s a thoucht an aw,
The daen o the dishes is bound tae go down braw!
Aye, there’s they wans wi potential, if they’d only chinge their tune,
But dinnae hang oan tae long cause they may well let ye doon.
There’s fellas that’ll wind ye up and get’ ye wild tormented,
And then turn the charm back oan that drives ye pure demented.
An’ laddies here’s a handy hint – if ye’ve kept us waiting hoors,
Just gie us a kiss and a compliment and a braw wee bunch o’ floers.
Oh aye, sometimes it’s herd tae be a wummin,
Gien aw yer love tae just wan maun,
Ye’ll hae rotten times, and he’ll hae braw times,
Daen things that ye cannae unn’er ston.
Bu’ when ye love ‘im, ye’ll forgive ‘im,
Even though he’s herd tae undersaun,
An’ if ye luv ‘im, oh be proud o’ him,
‘Cause efter aw, he;s jist a maun.
Staun by yer maun,
Gie him twa airms tae cling tae,
An something wahrm tae cling tae,
When nichts are cauld an lanely.
Staun by yer maun,
And show ra world ue luv him,
Keep gien aw the luv ye cun,
Staun by yer maun.
Masel’ ahm lucky tae be luved by a fine upstandin laddie,
Am glad tae tell ye that a’ve foon a goodie nae a baddie,
Aw men are bastards ah’l nae say yince,
Though ah’ve had a few toadies afore a foon ma prince.
Ah’d recommend it ladies ah don’t mean tae turn ye green,
But just haud oan tae the guid wans fur there few and faur between.
Roon and birly, skinny and saft,
Laddies are braw and laddies are daft,
Tae sum them up is affy herd,
The drunks, the widos and the lairds.
An’ tae the laddies gathered here,
We gie you thanks and gie a cheer,
Fur aw are braw and aw are rare,
Ah hope a huvnae been unfair.
Sae raise yer glasses lassies an’ gie the men a cheer,
We’re affy glad tae ken ye, it’s braw tae huv ye near.
A toast tae laddies.