Am Bratach No. 195
January 2008
editor@bratach.co.uk

Backcoasters Diary

RABBIE’S RIPOSTE
In the month of the year when people all over the world celebrate the birthday of Scotland’s most famous poet, it is worth remembering Robert Burns’s talent for extemporaneous composition. Calling on Burns with the intention of humbling him, a patronising, upper-class Englishman demanded that the poet prove his worth by composing a verse about himself — on the spot. “Just tell me your name and and when you were born,” requested Rabbie. “My name is Andrew Turner and I was born in 1749,” said the stranger. Burns pondered for a moment before coming up with the following:
In se’enteen hunder’n forty-nine,
The deil gat stuff to mak a swine,
An’ coost* it in a corner;
But wilily he chang’d his plan,
An’ shap’d it something like a man,
An’ ca’d it Andrew Turner. *cast

ROB’S RIPOSTE
The Back Coast’s own Rob Donn rivalled Burns in a quick wit (as well as in the quality of his poetry) as the following tale, recorded by his 1899 editor, Dr Hew Morrison of Skerray, in a flowery Victorian style, demonstrates.
At one time, travelling through Argyllshire, he met by chance Mr Macdonald of Achteriochdran, well known in his country as a man of notable humour and distinguished talents. Rob addressed to this gentleman some questions relative to his way.
“I perceive, my man, by your dialect you belong to the north. What part there?”
“To Lord Reay’s country.”
“Oh! then, you must know Rob Donn.”
“Yes; I could point him out to you in a crowd.”
“Pray, do inform me, then, what sort of person he is of whom I heard so much.”
“A person, I fear, of whom more has been spoken than he well deserves.”
This answer did not please Mr Macdonald, who was himself a poet, thinking he had met with too rigid a censurer of the northern bard, and the conversation ceased while they proceeded together on their way. After a pause Mr Macdonald, pointing to Ben Nevis in the distance, said, “Were you ever, my man, on the summit of yonder mountain?”
“No, I never was.”
“Then you have never been so near heaven.” “And have you yourself been there ?” “Indeed I have.”
“And what a fool you were to descend,” retorted the bard; “you can’t be sure of being ever again so nigh.”
Mr Macdonald looked at his companion and exclaimed, “I’ll be shot if thou art not thyself Rob Donn!”
The bard did not deny it, and a cordial friendship was formed between them.

WORLD EXCLUSIVE
The Crofters Commission will be privatised if the government’s Committee of Inquiry on Crofting under Professor Mark Shucksmith has its way. Details of their startling proposals, seen only by The Backcoaster, suggest that the Mountain Bothy Association is in the running for the franchise. Fears for the future employment of a number of current staff at Castle Wynd took a tumble when a MBA insider (Donald Trump) told your correspondent: “There’ll be no room for those dinosaurs in this new thrusting, developer-friendly Scotland. We must send out a message that ‘Crofting is open for business’”.