Burns Supper -- what's love got to do with it?

Burns Supper -- what's love got to do with it?

So this weekend, let's feel for all the wee and slicket timorous beasties. Let's ponder how the best laid plans o' mice and men gang aft a-gley. Let's try to see ourselves as others see us. Let's acknowledge that that the finest hours that e'er we spend are spent among the lasses-o. Let's drink a cup of kindness yet for auld lang syne. Let's be thankit because we hae meat and we can eat. Let's celebrate the man of independent mind who looks and laughs at a' that. Let's keep our hearts in the highlands, a-chasing the deer. Let's cherish our loves -- the red red roses, newly sprung in June. And let's admit that, had we never lov'd sae kindly, and had we never lov'd sae blindly, and never met—or never parted -- we had ne'er been broken-hearted.

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The Haggi go Hiding

The Haggi go Hiding

This is the weekend where it is dangerous to be a "great chieftan o the puddin' race." Tonight around the world, Scots will honour the great national poet, Robbie Burns. One of the highlights of the evening will be the "Address to a Haggis" in which the knife is plunged into the poor beastie, "Trenching your gushing entrails bright."

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