This evening, I attended a supper in Glasgow in honour of Scotland’s national poet, Rabbie Burns.

Here is an extract from one of Burns’ poems, ‘John Anderson, My Jo’:

John Anderson my Jo, John,
When wee were first acquent;
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bony brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld , John,
Your locks are like the snaw;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my jo.

Sing-a-long after the supper

Address to the Haggis


A good evening in convivial company!

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