"Auld Lang Syne" Heresy

[macwilkin]

First, let me thank you for posting that beautiful version of "old lang syne". I had never heard that one before and find it far superior to the one sung on New Years Eve. As for " Le Boudin", if I recall correctly, it refers to the blanket roll worn over the shoulder by the Legionaires. It was called le boudin due to its resemblance to the sausage.

Indeed it does -- in my haste to post about Le Boudin (Rouge), I forgot to mention the bed rolls on the top of the knapsack.

T.

[turpin]

Not being a Burns scholar like Thescot, I will yet add my surmise. If the assumed meaning of "willie waught" is "hearty draft" or otherwise, a big drink, perhaps "willie" is a transliteration of "walie" as in, from the Address to a Haggis "...clap in his walie nieve a blade. he'll make it whistle". In this case walie means great or big (or hearty).

What sayest you Burnsians.

[McMurdo]

Turpin

I'd have to agree.

[Phil]

I used to work with a Willie Waugh. Burns was not averse to introducing unknown words to his poetry, houghmagandie being another example. It may well be that these were very much local slang terms where he lived or there may have been a notorious toper called Willie Waugh in that area with a reputation for taking a skinful. Glasgow nowadays has many such made up words which, although they may sound like Scots, are in fact local slang.

[thescot]

Now that's the sort of discussion I had in mind.

Obviously, Burns is hard to read/hear/understand at first, but that's no reason not to read or hear. As pointed out, hearing it properly (or nearly so) read or recited makes it much easier. And I do not recommend one staying within one's comfort zone, especially in regard to learning. (That's another tale.)

The same complaints are leveled against Shakespeare and Chaucer and the King James, or Authorized, Verson of the Bible.

Whan that aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;

OK, tough for anyone--even me, and I memorized it decades ago. but it's worth the effort. As is:

O that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d
His canon ’gainst self-slaughter!

I've had to drag a few recalcitrant fellows through that one, but it was worth the effort once they "got it." Along with the opening humor of Romeo and Juliet. (If you don't believe me when I say it's actually quite hilarious, go look it up and work through all the bravado and counter-palaver between Sampson and Gregory. Ole Gregory (I think it was him; been a while) doesn't understand taht Sampson is teasing him.)

Of course, Shakespeare is technically Modern English, but it's still Elizabethen and requires a "Shakespearean ear" as I call it. The same might be said for the KJV which is also Elizabethan, written at about the same time as Shakewpeare, and intentionally stilted.

But even though it takes effort, it important to hear Burns when he says:

O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us
It wad frae monie a blunder free us
An' foolish notion
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us
An' ev'n Devotion

I put that one in our program for Saturday night.

And then there's my favorite:

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, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.

Sheer beauty, I tell you. And wisdom. And genius if you ever take the time to examine the entire canon. (I even have a book somewhere with his unpublished naughty works, but that's another tale for another day, too.)

[macwilkin]

Of course, Burns did write in standard English as well...witness one of the most beautiful of his verses found in the middle of his epic Tam O'Shanter:

But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white - then melts forever;
Or like the Borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow's lovely form
Evaneshing amid the storm.-

One of my favourite of Burns's lesser-known poems is his Impromptu on Mrs. [Maria] Riddell's Birthday, written in 1793:

Old Winter, with his frosty beard,
Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred:
"What have I done of all the year,
To bear this hated doom severe?

My cheerless suns no pleasure know;
Night's horrid car drags, dreary slow;
My dismal months no joys are crowning,
But spleeny English hanging, drowning.

"Now Jove, for once be mighty civil.
To counterbalance all this evil;
Give me, and I've no more to say,
Give me Maria's natal day!
That brilliant gift shall so enrich me,
Spring, Summer, Autumn, cannot match me."
"'Tis done!" says Jove; so ends my story,
And Winter once rejoiced in glory.

Let's keep this going...

T.

[OC Richard]

Lovely stuff that.

I didn't know that Burns wrote in Standard English also.

[Heming]

Lovely stuff that.

I didn't know that Burns wrote in Standard English also.

Many don't know that - but reading his English works and comparing them with his Scots works is very satisfying - if you like poetry, that is...

[thescot]

Many don't know that - but reading his English works and comparing them with his Scots works is very satisfying - if you like poetry, that is...

That is very true. It's part of the great charm one finds in Burns. His ability to swing from heavy, serious contemplations of freedom, the Rights of Man (and Woman), and romantic solicitations is another intriguing attribute.

Here is one of my favorite pair in standard English. (Apparently he was a bit premature in the first):

EPITAPH ON MISS JESSY LEWARS
Say, Sages, what’s the charm on earth,
Can turn Death’s dart aside?
It is not purity and worth,
Else Jessy had not died.

THE RECOVERY OF JESSY LEWARS
But rarely seen since Nature’s birth,
The natives of the sky,
Yet still one Serpah’s left on earth,
For Jessy did not die.

[McMurdo]

And now back to Burns poetry.

I used the following in a eulogy I wrote for my Uncle McMurdo, he was my Godfather and I am honoured to be named after him.

On My Own Friend And My Father's Friend, Wm. Muir In Tarbolton Mill

1784
Type: Epitaph

An honest man here lies at rest
As e'er God with his image blest;
The friend of man, the friend of truth,
The friend of age, and guide of youth:
Few hearts like his, with virtue warm'd,
Few heads with knowledge so informed:
If there's another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.