Burns evening socialMonday 26 January, 2026
Last Monday nicht when winter’s chill
Lay saft on the Burgh, calm and still,
We gathered blythe, wi’ hearts set free,
At Walter an’ Hazel Clark’s guid wee.
Frae ESOC folk came far an’ near,
Fifty strang souls in festive cheer,
The door stood wide, the fire shone braw,
An’ laughter rang through ilka wa’.
Mark Rowe, the chief o’ cunning plan,
Had skelpit oot the nicht’s grand span,
Wi’ Burnsian turns an’ playful glee,
He steered the crew right merrilie.
Then up strode Mark Kassyk, keen an’ stark,
A glintin’ blade, a serious spark,
“Address!” he cried, wi’ solemn air,
The haggis trembled on its chair.
Wi’ cut an’ verse, baith bold an’ fine,
He honoured Burns in word an’ sign,
The knife cam doon, the crowd cried “ach, bigger”
An’ steam rose up for that haggis’s dibber.
Haggis, neeps, an’ tatties piled,
Each plate a feast, baith rustic, mild,
Eleanor Pyrah, wi’ organiser’s grace,
Had marshalled fare for a’ the place.
Frae kitchen run tae servin’ line,
Her canny skill made a’ things fine,
Nae hunger there, nae want nor lack,
Just seconds claimed, then thirds piled back.
We welcomed warmly, claps an’ smiles,
Oor newest members, fresh frae miles,
Frae Malmö toon they joined the clan,
An’ fand their place in ESOC’s gang.
They brocht wi’ them a Nordic taste,
A treat, they said, nae time to waste,
Salted liquorice, black an’ braw,
We tried it once—“it was absolutely disgusting but thanks for bringing it anyway”!
O waes me! tongues did curl an’ greet,
That fearsome, strange, ungodly sweet,
The Swedes laughed loud, we Scots stood pale,
A cultural shock we’ll aye regale.
Yet still we cheered, for sic is fun,
Tae share what’s odd wi’ everyone,
In clash o’ taste an’ hearty roar,
New friendships grew all the more.
The nicht flew by in crack an’ sang,
Wi’ Burns’s spirit in ilka clang,
O’ glass an’ joke an’ clatterin’ plate,
We kent we’d mind this social date.
For clubs are mair than map an’ run,
They’re built on folk an’ shared wee fun,
On open doors an’ tables spread,
An’ kindly words ower haggis fed.
Sae here’s tae hosts, an’ planners too,
Tae speakers brave an’ caterers true,
Tae forty folk wha made it bright,
An Interlopers version wud hae been shite!!
Lang may ESOC gang on its way,
Wi’ compass sure by nicht an’ day,
Wi’ Burns in heart, an’ joy in store,
At ilka meet, an’ mony more.
We’ll aye mind Clark’s fireside glow,
That winter’s nicht, no’ lang ago,
When verse an’ vittles proved again,
Guid company’s the best o’ gain.
Stick yer dibber in da haggis
We are Scots. We ain’t no Gladys (from Wales)!
Fair fa’ yer honest, sonsie face
Now find your controls or you’re a disgrace!
Other entries categorised under: Social