More McGonagall than Burns; by Robin Forrest, pictured above in full flow.
Now Rabbie Burns, he got his thrills
Lying by babbling shady rills,
Drinking whisky by the glass
While spouting poetry at some lass;
But we are rough-tough mountaineers
Who’ve wandered o’er the hills for years,
Come sunshine, drizzle, ice or snow,
To peak and crag we boldly go.
And when the climbing day is done
And we’ve ticked off another one,
We brew some tea (it does us good),
And then we’re ready for some food.
What kind of victuals suit us best?
Not quiche lorraine and all the rest,
We don’t care for caviar, or dainty wee French fancies;
Such fare is only fit for Englishmen and pansies.
But pluck o’honest Scottish sheep,
Served up wi’ tatties and wi’ neeps;
That’s the dish for the IMC,
Prepared by the hand o’ the fair Rosemary.
So let us dine now with good cheer,
And wash it down with wine and beer,
The Highland climbers’ battle cry is;
“It’s dinner time- gie us a haggis!”
Jan 1997 (revised Jan 1998)