Aye, an evening grand we gather 'round,
Wi' friends an' laughter so profound.
A festive night tae celebrate,
The bard whose tales do captivate.

Wi’ haggis, neeps, and tatties fine,
An’ whisky bold, a taste divine.
The voices raise in jovial song,
To Robbie Burns, the night belongs.

We toast the lassies, hearts aglow,
Their beauty rare, as pure as snow.
And dance we do with joy and grace,
In honour o' his cherished place.

O’er candlelight, tales rich an’ warm,
Of love an’ life, nae storm can harm.
In friendship's glow, we fondly turn,
To celebrate our dear Burns’ charm.

So let the evening ne’er be spent,
In sorrow’s grief or heart's lament.
For Robbie Burns, a toast we raise,
In joyous cheer, his name we praise.

Slàinte Mhath!

We sat around the fire
While the old man read the poetry
From a battered old book
Held together with strips of
Ribbon and shoelaces
Bound around it like a cord

The light flickered and danced
To the beat of spitting wood
Shadows stretched across the room
We hid in them like a duvet

Eyes fixed elsewhere
Saw not how I placed  
Her hand in mine
And felt the delicate pulse
That betrayed her feelings to me
And mirrored my own feelings
For her.