This poem was written by Robert Burns after he had turned up a mouse’s nest ploughing a field.
*raises a wee dram*
It’s Burns Night tonight. We are skipping the celebration this year (rib of beef, haggis, neeps and tatties followed by cranachan) due to another speech somewhere else apparently. Nonetheless I will be forcing a bit of Rabbie on some unsuspecting students and then raising my Balvenie Doublewood (rich and not so smoky) to the imaginary haggis late tonight.
This poem “To a Mouse” is achingly beautiful, but it has to be heard so I have linked it to audio clips as well as text. Written “on turning her up in her nest, with the plough” in November 1785 I find it heart-wrenching that, despite his own hard life, Burns was inspired by the plight of a mouse in his field. A lesson in humanity.
N.B. After years of thinking haggis sounded disgusting and then when buying it going to a high-end butcher for their own, I am now of the opinion you can’t beat a MacSween haggis.
P.S. Dad, the Russell tartan can be seen here, are you allowed to wear it or must you stick with this?
Offering 20/1 we get a paternal response before February 2010…