KATE O'SHANTER

It is January 25th, the birthday of Burns (born 1759 in Alloway, Scotland). A quick nod in Burns' direction before heading out the door to a Supper (or a least a Modified Supper) at Professor Sir William and Lady C's abode.

Galloway farmland taken in October on the way back from the Wigton Book Festival

Bill, who knows his Burns probably doesn't know 'the other one'. So for the record, here it is (given to me several years ago by another Kate, who is presently busy at Celtic Connections),

The original poem, Tam O'Shanter is a long tale, in verse, which Iain knows off by heart. Tam, somewhat fond of the drink, especially on market day has a story and excuses for his wife, Kate, who is at home "nursing her wrath to keep it warm"! In the tale he heads home, much the worse for wear, and he thinks his poor horse, Meg (who has had her tail clipped by some of the lads at Ayr) has been caught by witches "An left poor Maggie scarce a stump").

Meanwhile ... is Kate, at home where she "in vain ... awaits thy comin"???

KATE O'SHANTER

And where, do you suppose, was Kate
When market days were wearing late
While Tam frequented wretched dives
And fooled around with landlord wives
And rode poor Meg through mud and ditches
And had an eye for handsome witches,
Played Peeping Tom at Alloway
And yelled, and gave himself away
And fled from there, amid the din
And Maggie barely saved his skin???

Not where you think!

Kate slaved away, the livelong day-
They had so many bills to pay.
The twins just had to have new shoes
And Tammie spent so much on booze.
She bathed and clothed and fed the twins,
She bakes the bread, she knits and spins,
She does the wash, she mends and clothes,
And what all else, God only knows!
She keeps the house all neat and trim,
And makes a lunch for ploughboy Jim -
A neighbour lad, they hire by day,
Who does Tam's work, while Tam's away.


She herds the sheep and cattle, too
Feeds hens, milks cows, and when that's through
Makes cheese and butter, gathers eggs-
For Tam to sell on market day
And drink the proceeds half away!
In harvest time, from early morn,
Her sickle reaps the oats and corn,
And many a sunny, summer day
She and ploughboy Jim make hay.

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Photo of gravestone was taken in the cemetery at Dalbeattie at 3pm, mid October, 2007