Last night I went to my local legion to celebrate Robbie Burns Day. For those who don't know, and I hope there are not many of you, Robbie Burns is a Scottish poet and folk hero. As part of my youthful highland dance classes, every Robbie Burns day of my childhood was spent dancing in retirement homes to celebrate and avoiding trying to eat the haggis; a dish, which, in hindsight, I actually quite enjoy.
Despite having grown up with such an attachment and appreciation to Robbie Burns, I really didn't know much about him...until yesterday that is. As part of the festivities one of the speakers went up to the podium and told us about Robbie's love of the ladies. I had heard rumours of him being quite the heartbreaker, so it wasn't the extent of his infidelity and scandal that shocked me. After the initial tales of love and lust, the speaker went on to state that Robbie didn't love ALL the ladies in his life and proceeded to recite the following poem about his friend's wife.
Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie.
Willie was a wabster guid
Could stown a clue wi onie body.
He had a wife was dour and din,
O, Tinkler Maidgie was her mither!
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.
She has an e'e (she has but ane),
The cat has twa the very colour,
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,
A clapper-toungue wad deave a miller;
A whiskin beard about her mou,
Her nose and chin they threaten ither:
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.
She's bow-hough'd, she's hem-shin'd,
Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter;
She's twisted right, she's twisted left,
To balance fair in ilka quarter;
She has a hump upon her breast,
The twin o that upon her shouther:
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.
Auld baudrans by the ingle sits,
An wi her loof her face a-washin;
But Willie's wife is nae sae trig,
She dights her frunzie wi a hushion;
Her walie nieves like midden-creels,
Her face wad fyle the Logan Water:
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.
Isn't that terrible! What a horrible thing to say about someone! I mean...fine! You don't like the woman. It's one thing to tell your friend that you don't like his wife. It's mamouthly more horrible to become a famous, world reknowned poet and write a long poem about all the characteristics and physical attributes of her being that disgust you!
The worst thing about this is that I still like Robbie Burns. I will continue to attend the annual events where I get to eat haggis, sing loudly, and dance to fiddle music. After all, people are human and I wouldn't want my admirers to change their opinion of me based on angry poems I wrote when I was having a bad day. And I can't know that this wasn't the case.
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haha i love robbie burns day! we use to go all out when i went to nellie mcclung school. maybe she was beautiful and the poem is meant to be ironic. ;p
ReplyDeletehaha perhaps, but I get the feeling that was not the case :P
ReplyDeleteFrom what I've heard (and this poem seems to get brought up quite often around this time of year), the lady in question was quite an unpleasant character who rubbed many people the wrong way and Burns may have been one of them. So it wasn't just her looks that Burns found objectionable and even though it's mainly her looks that seem to be addressed in the poem, he may have been using them as a proxy.
ReplyDeleteIncidentally, Willie Wastle was a chieftain who stood up to Cromwell when the latter come over with unpleasant intentions to Scotland. Wastle is said to have put up quite a fight though Oliver did win in the end. I wonder if the poem is making some historical reference.