BURNS'S SPORTING GHOST

From Glasgow to the Hebrides, when Scottish bagpipes wail
And drummers drum for Robert Burns, 'tis time to drink Scotch Ale.
'Tis the day when all of Scotland drinks to Robert Burns.
And if ye drink enough Scotch Ale, Old Robert's ghost returns.

His ghost returns resplendent with his sporran, tam and kilt.
And he's been known to curse in verse, should his Scotch Ale be spilt.
His kilt's the pride of Scotland. It bears the family tartan.
He wears nothing underneath. Burns's ghost is Spartan.

Although the ghost is somewhat shy, he just need lift a glass
Of Scotch Ale. Then he'll lift his kilt for every passing lass.
On Burns Night he eats haggis, Scotch eggs and cock-a-leekie,
While lassies lift the laddies' kilts to sneak a little peeky.

On Burns Night lads and lassies seem to lose their fear.
They lose their inhibitions on this night every year.
This loss of inhibition is not confined to youth.
And so it was that Mark McGwire finally told the truth.

He said that he’d used steroids and shook the world of sports.
Burns’s ghost, while in his grave, learned of these reports.
The ghost was truly outraged and said, “McGwire is wrong.
A laddy doesn’t need these drugs to make his body strong.

“Whisky, haggis and Scotch Ale are all a laddy needs
For him to toss a caber and do other manly deeds.
All those silly drugs are just a bloody waste.
Scotch Ale builds strong bodies and has superior taste.

“Scotsmen love their sports. As many people know,
The Scots invented golf five hundred yeas ago.
They’ll play a round of golf out upon the links,
Then hit the nineteenth hole for a round of drinks.”

The ghost said, “Tiger Woods must have Scottish blood.
That lad’s a world class golfer and a world class stud.
His appetite can rival the most priapic Scot.
His girlfriends and his wife are all extremely hot.

“Mrs. Woods, it’s clear, is spirited and sassy.
She also is a most unforgiving lassie.
She too is good at golf. Her technique is classy.
She had a perfect backswing when she hit him with a brassie.

“She hit him with a driver, a wedge and putter too.
She always kept her head down and always followed through.
She used all fourteen clubs before she was finally done.
She hit his head as if it were a Titleist Pro V One.

“Mrs. Woods’s swing is one we can admire.
No one has more power. Not even Mark McGwire.”
Finally the ghost had one more thing to say,
“My advice to Tiger is, stay out of her way.”

On that note Burns's ghost gives us all a wave,
Downs his beer and says, "It's time to head back to my grave."
With these parting words, he fades into the night.
The ghost of Robert Burns has vanished from our sight.

Now, I ask you all to join me in a toast
To the spirit of tonight, Robert Burns's ghost.
In his lifetime he enjoyed many pleasures without guilt.
Let's raise a glass to one who raised our spirits and his kilt.

January 25, 2010