Burns Day

January 2006


Here are the winners of this year's

recitation of Scots verse.

Class 1/2


Twa Leggit Mice


Ma mither says that we hae mice
That open air-ticht tins
And eat her chocolate biscuits
And cakes and sic like things.

 Nae doot it is an awfy shame
That mice should get the blame.
It’s really me that ripes the tins
When left alane at hame.

But jings I get fair hungert
And biscuits taste sae nice
But dinnae tell ma mither
For she thinks it’s the mice!

By J.. K Annand


Class 2/3


The Corbie and the Craw 

The corbie wi' his roupy throat
frae the leafless tree
"Come owre the loch, come owre the loch,
Come owre the loch wi’ me.

The craw pit up his sooty head
An’ cried "Where to? Where to?"
"Tae yonder field," the corbie cried
"Where there is corn enow,"

"The ploughman ploughed the land yestreen,
The farmer sowed this morn,
An’ we can mak a full fat meal
Frae off the scattered corn."

The twa black birds flew ower the trees,
An’ I flew towards the sun,
The farmer, watchin’ by a hedge,
Shot baith wi' his lang gun!


Class 3/4


Creep Afore Ye Gang

CREEP awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang,
Cock ye baith your lugs to your auld
Grannie's sang :
Gin ye gang as far ye will think the road lang,
Creep awa’, my bairnie, creep afore ye gang.

Creep  awa',  my bairnie,  ye're ower young to learn
To tot up and down yet, my bonnie wee bairn ;
Better creepin' cannie, than fa'in' wi' a bang,
Duntin'  a'  your  wee  brow,—creep   afore  ye gang.

Ye'll creep, an' ye'll hotch, an' ye'll nod to your mither,
Watchin' ilka step o' your wee donsy  brither ;
Rest ye on the floor till your wee limbs grow strang,
An' ye'll be a braw chiel yet,—creep afore ye gang.

The wee birdie fa’s when it tries ower soon to flee,
Folks are sure to tumble, when they climb ower hie;
They wha canna walk right are sure to come to wrang,
Creep awa’, my bairnie, creep afore ye gang.

By  James Ballantine


Class 5/6


The Kirk Moose

 I'm a wee kirk moose an' I haven't got a name,
But thon muckle kirk at the corner is ma hame,
Wi' the cock on the steeple an' the bell that gangs
An' I wish that I was big enough to gaur it gie a ring.

I can sing a' the psalms, I can say a’ the prayers,
An' I whiles do a dance up an' doon the pulpit stairs.
I ken a' the texts, I can find them in the Book,
An' there's mony a human-bein' wi' nae notion where to look.

When the meenister says "Firstly" an' the folk a' settle doon,
I gang creepin'-creepin'-creepin* in amang their Sunday shoon;
An' I 'm wishin', as I'm jinkin' frae the passage to the pew
That they'll mebbe drop a pandrop or a peppermint to

For I'm sometimes awfu' hungry, an' there's naethin' much to eat
Except the paraphrases or a hymn-book for a treat. I've eaten the Auld Hunner, I've chowed Beatitudes,
But I canna say I've found them just the tastiest o' food.

I'm a wee kirk moose an' I haven't got a name,
But I'm really quite contented, it's just ma empty waim
So I'm hopin' that some Sunday, wad ye mind aboot me, please ?
An' bring me in your bible just a wee bit taste o' cheese

Lavinia Derwent


Class 6/7



Bruce's Address to his Troops at Bannockburn

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to Victorie!

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour;
See approach proud Edward's power-
Chains and Slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a Slave?
Let him turn and flee!

Wha, for Scotland's King and Law,
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or Free-man fa',
Let him on wi' me!

By Oppression's woes and pains!
By your Sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud Usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!-
Let us Do or Die!


Robert Burns 1793



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