Written in honour of the bard's birthday:-
“Ye cannae write that, Rabbie!” Jean said. “Just because she gie’d ye socks agin’ fir yer birthday!”
Burns read his new poem aloud. “There gaes ma Auntie Aggie’s face, Queen Grumpy ‘o the pudden race... It’s perfect,” he declared.
“How about another nice animal poem? They’re popular. Like those ones about mice and lice. How about a cat?”
“Emma Baird does them.”
“A dug?”
“Jane Reid.”
“Tiger...?”
“Some Englishman called Bill Blake. And ah need a rhyme wi’ ‘Aggie’.”
“Ach, cam awa’ an hae yer tea. It’s yer favourite.”
Burns looked at the plate. “Short, fat, hairy legs, rhymes wi’ Aggie’s....”
“Ye cannae write that, Rabbie!” Jean said. “Just because she gie’d ye socks agin’ fir yer birthday!”
Burns read his new poem aloud. “There gaes ma Auntie Aggie’s face, Queen Grumpy ‘o the pudden race... It’s perfect,” he declared.
“How about another nice animal poem? They’re popular. Like those ones about mice and lice. How about a cat?”
“Emma Baird does them.”
“A dug?”
“Jane Reid.”
“Tiger...?”
“Some Englishman called Bill Blake. And ah need a rhyme wi’ ‘Aggie’.”
“Ach, cam awa’ an hae yer tea. It’s yer favourite.”
Burns looked at the plate. “Short, fat, hairy legs, rhymes wi’ Aggie’s....”
