Barney Flynn at the Burns Club
A Discussion On National
Characteristics
by John Liddell Kelly
In the cowld winter noights, when enjoyments are few,
And loife looks so cheerless and dreary,
A chap like meself scarcely knows what to do,
But to sit by the fireside and weary;
Or go out to some " pub " wid a parlour so nate,
And a lovely young barmaid so charmin' and swate,
Till with whisky and love I'd be bothered complate
To kape up a dacent sobriety;
But me frind, Paddy Burke, says that woman and wine
Will spoil my karakter, which brightly might shine,
If I'd only go wid him some aivenin' and join
The Burns Club and Scottish Society.
"Be jabers!" sez I, "there is something in that,
But I don't mane to join the taytotal."
"More power to your bowld rizolution!" sez Pat,
"It's meself won't forbid yez a bottle;
In fact, if ye come, ye'll get full every night—
Not wid whisky I mane, but wid knowledge and light,
And you'll perch like a Janius on Larnin's proud height,
Or shoine as a pattern of piety;
For all the young mimbers of larnin' are full—
Not one of them silly or stupid or dull,
And the big bumps of knowledge stick out on their skull,
At the Burns Club and Scottish Society ! "
So off to the very next matin' he wint
And proposed Barney Flynn as a mimber;
And I next wint in person meself to presint
On a cowld, windy night in Septimber.
I stepped in the room, and my heart wint pit-pat,
As down by the side of a lady I sat,
Who had lovely dark eyes, and a Gainsboro' hat,
And who blushed wid the swatest propriety;
Thin I looked down the room wid a wild sort of stare,
For there sat the moighty Committee; and there
Was Mister Macdonald, who sat in the chair
At the Burns Club and Scottish Society!
In a minute or two, shure the minutes was passed,
And meself was resaved by the matin' ;
Then up to his feet got the chairman at last,
And sez he—" We'll be afther debatin'!
And I hope every mimber will spake out his mind,
For betwixt two extremes we the truth ought to find,
And the subject to-night is most clearly designed
To draw out your best contrareity.
Whether Scotland, or England, or Ireland is best ?
Whether Pat, John, or Sandy the laurels shall wrest ?
That's the question, me bhoys, to be put to the test
By the Burns Club and Scottish Society ! "
SCOTLAND
Then Donald MacPherson stepped out to the front—
His walk it was awkward, his spache it was blunt;
And sez he:
"Maister Chairman an' freens, ye maun ken
A Scotchman is famed as a king among men !
There's nae place on earth that auld Scotland surpasses
For big, buirdly men and for braw, sonsy lasses;
The snell win's o' Scotland bring tears tae yer e'e,
But she cures a' yer ills wi' her strong barley bree ;
At fechtin', a Scotchman will ne'er cry " Enough ! "
And in business it's kent that he's aye up tae snuff.
Yet he's modest, and patient, and cautious, and sly,
And his wit brichtly sparkles, though sometimes gey dry;
He is sober, and kindly, and fond o' his hame,
And a guid cog o' parritch refreshes his wame !
Owre the hale o' the warl' jist cast ye an e'e,
And Sandy ye'll find at the tap o' the tree!
We have Members o' Parliament here o' oor ain,
For Peacock and Swanson are Scotch tae the bane;
Judge Gillies (a Scotchman) is first in the law;
The Anglican Bishop's a Scotchman an' a';
And what's better than that, ye'll allow me tae tell,
(In strict confidence though) I'm a Scotchman masell!
"Then I'll still praise my countrymen, canty and douce;
And I'll still praise the country o' Wallace and Bruce;
The land that breeds poets and patriots by turns—
The brave Colin Campbell, the true Rabbie Burns,
An' the bauld Watty Scott, an' a hunner an' mair
O' poets tae sing o' her lasses sae fair.
It's the land that surpasses a' lands put thegither ;
Then here's tae its lakes, and its hills and its heather,
Its whusky and cakes—here's auld Scotland for ever! "
ENGLAND.
Next Billy Barrell took the flure -
His blood was Anglo-Saxon pure ;
Wid pride his breast was swellin' full.
As thus he eulogised John Bull: —
Old England is the power (sez he).
Whose mighty navies sweep the sea.
Whose free air makes the captives free.
O'er every clime her sway extends;
Each continent its tribute Sends;
She's feared by foes, beloved by friends.
For honest, sterling, upright worth.
The men to whom her soil gives birth
Surpass all other men on earth.
The world's envy, Britain's pride,
There London sits upon the tide,
Her gates of commerce roaring wide.
The land of roses, woods and glades.
Of ruddy, blue-eyed Saxon maids,
Of wealth, of power that never fades.
Without her, Scotland, cold and bleak,
Would aye have been despised and weak;
Well might they England's friendship seek.
Her merchant vessels plough the wave;
Her sons so generous and brave
Know well the way to Glory's grave!
She boasts of many an honoured name:
Shakespeare, the glorious child of Fame,
And Milton, fired with Fancy's flame
By sea, her Nelson glory won;
In War's alarms, her Wellington;
In statesmanship, her Palmerston.
And greater than it yet hath been
Britannia's rule shall grow, I ween.
Till all men cry—" God save the Queen."
IRELAND.
Thin up to his feet jumped me frind, Paddy Burke.
And I saw by his eye he was wild as a Turk.
" Mr. Chairman," he said, wid an accent of scorn,
" I am proud to confiss I'm an Oirishman born !
For owld Oireland's the home of Gallantry and Wit,
Where Beauty and Love in swate partnership sit;
Wid the prettiest of colleens, the greenest of sod.
And bhoys that would foight for the pure love of God ;
Religion and larnin' on her brightly smiled,
When the Scotch and the English were cannibals wild ;
And whatever they have—statesman, warrior, poet,
They may brag as they loike, but to Oireland they owe it!
What's the Scotch ? They were kicked out of Oireland.
bedad!
And stole from me country the name that it had:
Their Wallace and Bruce, spite of all their to-do,
Couldn't twirl a shillelah wid Brian Boru!
And poor Rabby Burns that they boast of—och shure—
Couldn't grind out a pome like our own Tommy Moore!
For solemn hypocrisy, maneness and pride,
Shure, Scotty is famous the whole world wide;
And if snuffling and shuffling, deciption and lies,
Is your model of right, give the Scotchman the prize!
And thin, what's thim English, I'm wanting to know,
That they howld up their heads wid their bluster and blow?
Don't they know that they never were able to bate
Owld Oireland, and lay her subdued at their fate,
Till by bribery and fraud they extinguished her name,
And sowld her poor childer to misery and shame!
The big, bloated Saxons may boast of their bravery,
But its bowld Oirish sodgers that win every fight:
And they never need brag of abolishing slavery
While Oireland is ruled wid Oppression and Might.
To be honest and candid, John Bull is a baste,
That for beef and for beer has a gluttonous taste ;
He worships his belly, or gold is his god,
And he rules like a tyrant wid merciless rod !
Then you spake about scenery, climate and sky ;
But Oireland's the place that entrances the eye :
Lake, mountain, and valley, and river has she,
And she lies like an emerald gim in the sea.
Her people so chivalrous, witty and brave,
Some day will arise and her honour will save ;
Wid a Parliament sitting in fair College Green,
We'll forget the dark days as they never had been.
Parnell, Dillon, and Redmond will shine as great heroes,
When your Gladstone and Forster are hated as Neros;
And when John Bull and Sandy have perished together,
We'll join in the chorus ' Owld Oireland for ever !' "
"Owld Oireland for ever! Whoop! Hullabaloo!"
I cried, as me hat to the ceiling I threw;
"I seconds that motion; and thim that dissint
Let them step to the door and I'll give them a hint.
If a word 'gainst me poor bleeding country ye've got,
I invoite yez to tramp on the tail ov me coat,
I invoite yez to thry on this very same spot
To show yer supayrior variety! "
There was nobody stirred, so I just says : " All right ;
Ye consint by yer silence yez don't mane to fight,
And confiss that owld Oireland's the victor to-night,
At the Burns Club and Scottish Society !"
As I sat down in triumph, the lovely young gell
Who sat by me side sez—" Ye did very well!"
Thin she blushed, and her eyes to the flure quickly fell,
Wid the natest and swatest propriety.
Thin we walked away home by the moon's gentle light,
And wid pleasure I hung on her glances so bright,
And a nice little courtship was started that night,
At the Burns Club and Scottish Society!
Now, if any young man has a mind to improve,
Without help of Professor or College;
If he wants to expayrience the pleasures of love,
Nicely mixed wid the pleasures of knowledge —
If he wants a karakter for larnin' and wit,
If he wants lovely girls wid his charms to be smit,
If he wants to escape from the snares of the pit,
And be famed for his dacent sobriety,
Let him quit all the pranks he indulged in of yore,
And come where divarshun and profit's in store —
Where the Jaynius of Larnin' sits over the door
At the Burns Club and Scottish Society!
John
Liddell Kelly was born near near Airdrie, Scotland on Feb. 19,
1850. He emigrated to New Zealand in 1880 where he worked as a
journalist and became assistant editor / editor of the Auckland Star; Auckland Observer; Lyttelton Times; and the New Zealand
Times, as well as publishing his own works.
