This was not my original post for the day, but as many of us are either poets and Scottish [ancestrally], or, poets or Scottish, how can I not give a nod to Burns’ Day. I was helped in this decision, by Chris Goan’s post on his blog site: this fragile tent, a blog I have followed for some time.
This is my first reblog, therefore I have no idea of what is about to happen [like Alice and the rabbit hole, rather]. Enjoy the post and maybe do some wandering of your own through Burns’ poems and songs.
See you tomorrow on the Friday Freeforall. Happy wandering and writing, all.
Today is Burns day.
For the uninitiated, this is a big day up here in Scotland. There will be many a haggis piped in and much raising of whisky glasses along with ceremonial readings of Burns poetry. It is possible that somewhere in this wonderful world that there are other great poets whose memory is celebrated by a national day all of their own – the poets of ancient Persia perhaps – but if so, I do not know of it. This fact alone singles out Burns as special.
Burns was a man who packed an awful lot into his 37 years of life. Before he died in 1796 he had been a farmer, a book keeper on a Jamaican slave plantation, a…
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