For those of you who don’t know (shame on you!) it is Burns Night on Sunday. Poor Little Owl is having a hard time of it. She is having to learn a Burns poem to recite by heart for school. I love that the school are doing this, it’s so old-fashioned and lovely, but the Scots words are getting her in a right tangle. “Richt wee deil” becomes “rickety wheel” in her brave attempts. I’ve put a copy of the poem at the bottom of the post for you to have a go at. I’m no help to her at all. Even when I get the pronunciation right I sound ridiculous. I’m just too English. It’s the “ch” sound that trips me up every time and that’s the sound that sounds so lyrical on anyone with a genuine Scottish accent.
Finch, on the other hand, is thoroughly enjoying the Burns traditions. He managed to polish off a heaped plate of haggis, tatties and neeps, accompanied by buttered oat cakes, and followed with shortbread at Toddler Group. Once he’d wolfed that down he crawled off to see if he could swipe any leftovers from the other children’s plates. There’s a baby who’s got his priorities sorted.
Roguey Pogey by Robert Burns. Rogue pogey Pickety peel My sister is A richt wee deil.
She nips my lugs And rugs my hair Scatters my toys All ower the flair.
She lauchs and thinks It is great fun But then her age Is only one.