At school it was a disaster. My English teacher said something like…….. "OK …….we will now deal with the Scots poet……….. Robert Burns."………

"Burns was a romantic he wrote love poems and poems about nature. One of his most famous was………. To a Mouse. I would like you all to read this poem for homework………… and next lesson we will have a competition to see who can recite each line the best !"

Very inspiring !

After the lesson, while I was up the back of the bike sheds, (where the gang hang out), I can remember as clear as day telling my mates - "I Don't Like Poetry !"

And I have to say that attitude stayed with me for a great number of years. Then, when I was in my late 20's, I started to play golf and one January evening found myself at the club's Burns Supper. I watched in admiration, several of the members perform poetry and songs in a way that I had never seen or heard before.

I was so impressed that I took it upon myself to try and learn a little, so that one day I might be able, to imitate the performances I saw that night at other Burns Suppers in the coming years…….and I did!

Some time ago I wrote a wee poem to commemorate these events……..hope you enjoy.

Kind Regards

Ronnie.

I don't like poetry ! As I used to say at school

"I don't like poetry", it's glib an' droll,
It always talks about "the soul",
That love, and bittersweet control,
Ower imaged minds,
For scholar's worship to enrol,
As school bells chime.

As we grow up they teach us Keats,
Shakespeare, Byron, lines from Blake,
We classify interpret Yates,
An' other lads,
Whose inner thoughts we conjugate,
Wae critic jabs.

When men suggested ….. "read some Burns,"
The thoucht would mak' ma stomach churn,
Tae read aboot !… wee mice an turns
Near Afton brae ?
Or bird's wae flappin' wing's a hurrin
In natures way.

Naw, naw,…. tae me that's nancy speak,
It widdna mak' a tough boy sweet,
Us lads, came frae that "ither street",
Where smart guys stay,
Who knew it a' and never meet
A better way.

But then one nicht, I did attend,
A Burns supper, richt tae the end,
A listened keen, tae comprehend,
Our auld Scot's tongue,
I wondered how this bardie's bend,
Was so well sung.

So listen … whose this Shanter man ?
That came frae some auld creepy farm,
They say… he spied a witch's charm
Near some auld Kirk,
An' came within a bridges span
O' meeting nick.

An' tell me more about thone "Willie"
O' how a thought it very funny,
Tae see him screech…. An' him sae holy !
Wae pious pout.
An' how the bard cleansed out his soul
Wae satires clout.

I read a little more each day
The song's, epistles, letters tae
I learned some lines, tae watch the play
At Burns feasts
Wae slight amaze, it's me that say's,
A party piece…..

But …… I don't like poetry !!!

Ronnie O'Byrne

Many thanks for that Ronnie! That's absolutely brilliant. You've summed up perfectly the thoughts and experiences of so many. (Encore !!! - Please!)