And because every Scot is a frustrated Rabbie Burns and Irn-Bru drinker we’ve combined our two great passions on this the anniversary of the Bard’s birth.
Just at the same time as Irn-Bru brings Burns to life again through AI.
Here I am channeling my inner Burns with my Address to Scotland’s other national drink, in the style of The Ploughman Poet’s own Address to the Haggis.
And yes, I do both, with all the style and drama played out at every Burns Supper, big and small, across the globe.
With the odd Address to the Lassies from your kilted blogger thrown in at the St Andrew’s Society in Dun Laoghaire, back in the day in my 13 years living in Ireland.
Now, if you really want to give homage to the poet who inspired everyone from Wordsworth to Bob Dylan and beyond then, of course, visit his home village.
Alloway, in Ayrshire, which is a National Trust for Scotland jewel.
I imagine, having trod the boards with the Forth Stanza at the Edinburgh Fringe, that Rabbie would have approved.
Address to the Irn-Bru
Great chieftain o’ the saft drinks race
Aboon them a’ ye tak yer place
Coke, Fanta or Sprite
Weel are ye worthy
O a’ grace
Fir ma drinkin’ armThe sparkling tumbler there ye fill
And ne’er a drap ye want tae spill
Cause when yer feelin unco ill
Wi nippin’ heid
Frae every pore whisky distilled
Last nicht ye were half-deidMa mooth begins tae salivate
At what awaits fir ma pallate
Yir bubbles explode at sic a rate
Ah take tae ma lips
And then what a glorious taste,
Ah start tae sip.
A stop for a sip
Then can for can the admen drive
The real thing maks ye feel alive
The sated thirst for which they strive
Illusionary
But here’s a drink tae refresh you
Barr’s Irn-Bru
But how tae get yir tongue roon you
So you can order Irn-Bru
An soond like a Scotsman true
It’s nae the urn ye keep for ashes
Bit cold steel iron fae bloody clashes
Wi you ken who
Gie us an Irn-Bru
Aw roon the wirld they a’ ken you
They ken yir orange an’ blue hue
As Jocks aw ask Nae Irn-Bru?
It’s made frae girders
Gawd help the man wha offers coke
There hae been murders
Or him wha says he kens the taste
And the ingredient he kens the maist
Is bubble gum, well he’s a waste o’ space
Cause men hae gaun tae their grave
Wi the secret o’ the Bru kept safe
Ye bars that mak drinking your care
And serves us up fizzy Tennents beer
That jist maks us want tae go tae the pee-er
Sae If ye wish tae grant Scots’ prayers
Gie us an Irn-Bru
Aye, enjoy your Burns supper and remember every Scot is a frustrated Rabbie Burns.