Robert Burns

Yesterday (25th) marked 250 years since the birth of the Scottish poet Robert Burns. Celebrations took place across Scotland in honour of the bard most famous for the song “Auld Lang Syne”. Scots enjoyed the feast of Haggis which consists of a sheep’s heart and lungs chopped up with spices and oatmeal and stuffed into a sheep’s stomach which is joined with “neeps” (turnips) and “tatties” (potatoes). Before and after the appetising meal they took part in poetry readings, reciting some of Burns’ poems including ‘Coming Through The Rye’ and ‘A Red, Red Rose’. In Alloway, near Ayr, where Burns was born, thousands of people joined celebrations including a lantern procession and church service.

It wasn’t just in Scotland that celebrations took place. Across the globe, people came together to commemorate the much loved poet. Events took place south of the border as well as in the United States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, China and Japan. The Scottish tourism board, which has recently invested in a celebrity fronted advertising campaign to draw expatriates back to their homeland and attract tourists and business, highlighted the excellence of Burns’ work and praised the literary gifts he had given to Scottish culture.

First Minister Alex Salmond, leader of the Scottish National Party (SNP), described Burns as “Scotland’s human being of the millennium”.

Robert Burns was born on the 25th of January in the year 1759. Born into a poor family, it was his first love, Nelly Kirkpatrick, who first inspired him to write poetry. His work is noted for the heavy Scottish dialect which was in fact part of the title for the first of his published works, “Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect” in 1786. This collection included some of his most impressive poems including “To a Mouse” and “The Holy Fair”.

Like many poets in the past, Burns work gained fame after his premature death at the age of 37, of rheumatic fever. He was buried in the churchyard of St. Michael’s in Dumfries. It has been said he fathered up to 8 illegitimate children born from 5 different women. His wife Jean Burns gave birth to their 9th child together on the very day of his burial.

See also: Worldwide Toast to Robert Burns.

Michael Rosen, a great admirer of the NHS, was honoured to be asked to write the poem. The fact that the institution had seen his five children born in their hospitals and had later saved two of them from septicaemia and pneumonia was not something to be ignored or taken for granted.

“When I came to write this poem, I wanted to express the idea that it serves us cradle to the grave, but I also wanted to celebrate everybody in the service.” said Rosen. “There are many different kinds of essential work going on every minute of the day and I wanted to show that.”

Children asked about the poem gave it raving reviews which was the most important feedback the poet needed.

Theo, aged nine, a pupil from a school in Camden said: “I liked the way it had a constant rhythm a bit like a heartbeat. I think it would cheer up children going into hospital.”

Teachers too have been delighted with the piece.

“I think it is a delightful idea getting the children’s poet laureate to write a poem celebrating the NHS at 60,” said Steven Buzzard, a teacher. “We studied the poem and found it a really good way of teaching the children about the NHS and how long it has been going.”

Hospital directors, paediatricians, politicians and parents have all noted over the years how important the National Health Service has been to the country. However there is still work to be done and more children needing treatment and a sense of security. It’s hoped that Rosen’s poem will go a long way to helping bring down the mystery or anxieties of hospitals.

The poem is as follows.

‘These are the Hands’

These are the hands
That touch us first
Feel your head
Find the pulse
And make your bed.
These are the hands
That tap your back
Hold your arm
Wheel the bin
Change the bulb
Fix the drip
Pour the jug
Replace your hip
These are the hands
That fill the bath
Mop the floor
Flick the switch
Soothe the sore
Burn the swabs
Give us a jab
Throw out sharps
Design the lab.
And these are the hands
That stop the leaks
Empty the pan
Wipe the pipes
Carry the can
Clamp the veins
Make the cast
Log the dose
And touch us last.

by Michael Rosen