the girl who used to dance on fire and brimstone (whiskyinmind) wrote,
the girl who used to dance on fire and brimstone
whiskyinmind

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hmmm

okay, I just caught the tail end of VH1's 100 worst number ones. Cliff Richard's "Millennium Prayer" got the most votes, which - if I remember right - pissed off just about everyone, the song that is, not the fact it's the top of the worst number ones poll. It offended Scots because it ripped off "Auld Lang Syne", it offended non-Christians because it was pseudo-propaganda, it offended Christians because it re-wrote the Lord's Prayer, it offended music fans because it was Cliff Richard. Basically a whole lot of people were pissed off with that song and Cliff Richard has not really had a successful hit since then.

I found myself singing the actual words of Auld Lang Syne in a weird attempt to drown out the murdering of the tune that was coming from my TV speakers and found myself a little lost for the words in the second verse. So, I grabbed hold of my copy of the complete works of Robert Burns (a 19th birthday present from my parents, they gave me lots of books for birthdays, all of which had a little dedication written by my mum. This book has my dad's handwriting in it - he died three months after my 19th birthday.) Anyway, there are two bookmarks in the book - the first is at Tam O'Shanter because it's such a great yarn! (and no smhwpf I'm not writing a TO'S/BtVS crossover - it'll take a helluva lot of whisky for that to happen!) and the second bookmark is at this song. I know why, it touched me when I was 19 and naive. It still touches me, but more with nostalgia than anything else. I saw Eddie Reader sing this last Burn's night and she did it beautifully, but she somehow managed to miss the childish idealism in it. Ah well. (I never did find the full lyrics of Auld Lang Syne - they're in there somewhere)



Is there for honesty poverty,
That hings his head, an a' that;
The coward slave - we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Oor toils obscure an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gawd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a' that?
Gie fools their silks, and knaves thier wine,
A man's a man for a' that,
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their tinsel show, an a' that,
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord,
Wha stuts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that,
For a' that, an' a' that,
His ribband, star, an' a' that,
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignaties an' a' that,
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
That man to man, the world o'er,
Shall brithers be for a' that.
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