...but David, you're going to refer to it as the Immortal MEMORY! noo, aren't ye? I gave a "fantastic" "Memory" one year (swiped it from somebody else's notes --- not copyright) about how much Robert Burns's writings meant to President Abraham Lincoln, who all the time carried around a small volume of his works to which he could refer. The story goes that he could recite Burns at will. He was also equally impressed with Shakespeare. ------------------------------------------------ Further on a previous comment about the diet of the Scots vs the Irish, I hope listers don't mind the inclusion of this snippet taken from Frank McCourt's book "Angela's Ashes" about his childhood in Limerick. An Irish friend here where I live also came from Limerick and said he wrote a load of rubbish as "nobody" lived that way. I should have quoted: "I would rather have eyes that cannot see; ears that cannot hear; lips that cannot speak, than a heart that cannot love" - (Robert Tizon) Surely, if even just a mere handful lived like this in Limerick this woman should have had compassion. Surely the Irish who came over as transient agricultural workers, earning "whatever" might have met with more understanding about their economic plight among their own "class" when they came to work the fields in Wigtownshire. I hope so. Anyway, here's the excerpt from McCourt's book on the family's Christmas fare. If his mother had stuck to potatoes, or had even known how to make haggis from the offal "leftovers" with oats, maybe three of the children would not have died (malnutrition likely). Frank McCourt is a contemporary writer, and so the events occurred during the period when he was born in 1930 (he died 2009) in USA. The family returned to Ireland when he was a small boy, and then in his later teens he decided to return to the USA. As a teacher in the USA he would live light years away from his horribly deprived upbringing as a child in Limerick. ------------------------------------------------- SNIPPET: NY-born author/teacher Frank McCOURT writes about one Christmas when the family returned to Ireland to live in his memoir "Angela's Ashes" (1996). "Mam takes Malachy and me to the St. Vincent de Paul Society to stand in the queue and see if there's any chance of getting something for the Christmas dinner -- a goose or a ham, but the man says everyone in Limerick is desperate this Christmas. He gives her a docket for groceries at McGrath's shop and another one for the butcher. No goose says the butcher, no ham. No fancy items when you bring the docket from the St. Vincent de Paul. What you can have now, missus, is black pudding and tripe or a sheep's head or a nice pig's head. No harm in a pig's head, missus, plenty of meat and children love it, slice that cheek, slather it with mustard and you're in heaven, though I suppose they wouldn't have the likes of that in America where they're mad for the steak and all classes of poultry, flying, walking or swimming itself. He tells Mam, no she can't have boiled bacon or sausages and if she has any sense she'll take the pig's head before they're all gone the way the poor people of Limerick are clamoring for them. Mam says the pig's head isn't right for Christmas and he says 'tis more than the Holy Family had in that cold stable in Bethlehem long ago. You wouldn't find them complaining if someone offered them a nice fat pig's head. No, they wouldn't complain, says Mam, but they'd never eat a pig's head. They were Jewish .... The butcher takes the pig's head off a shelf ... wraps the head in newspaper, hands it to Mam and says, Happy Christmas. Then he wraps up some sausages and tells her, Take these sausages for your breakfast on Christmas Day. Mam says, Oh, I can't afford sausages, and he says, Am I asking you for money? Am I? Takes these sausages. They might help make up for the lack of a goose or a ham. Sure, you don't to do that, says Mam. I know that, missus. If I had to do it, I wouldn't. Mam says she has a pain in her back, that I'll have to carry the pig's head. I hold it against my chest but it's damp and when the newspaper begins to fall away everyone can see the head. Mam says, I'm ashamed of me life that the world should know we're having pig's head for Christmas. Boys from Leamy's National School see me and they point and laugh. Aw, Gawd, look at Frankie McCourt an' his pig's snout. Is that what the Yanks ate for Christmas dinner, Frankie? One calls to another, Hey, Christy, do you know how to ate a pig's head? No, I don't, Paddy. Grab him by the ears an' chew the face offa him. And Christy says, Hey, Paddy, do you know the only part of the pig the McCourts don't ate? No, I don't Christy. The only part they don't ate is the oink. After a few streets the newspaper is gone altogether and everyone can see the pig's head. His nose is flat against my chest and pointing up at my chin and I fell sorry for him because he's dead and the world is laughing at him. My sister and two brothers are dead, too, but if anyone laughed at them I'd hit them with a rock." Check out the Ireland GenWeb website at: http://www.irelandgenweb.com/y, ------------------------------------------------------- [WIG LIST] Tatties, Hokers etc Gosh, I thought I got it tough, when as a 11/12 year old one of my Saturday jobs was to remove really dirty tatties covered in mud and grit from large hessian sacks and weigh them on a balance into 7 and 14 pound brown paper bags for sale in my Dad and Mum's Grocery shop in Swanbourne, Western Australia. I hated the feel of the tatties on my hands --- it was like scrubbing my hands with a dry floor scrubbing brush. Somehow I stalled on the job and caused the work to last for ages, when, if I had had any wisdom at all at the time, I would have gie'in the job laldy and got it over and done with. I did this in a building clad and roofed with rusty flat-iron in century and above century temperatures --- in contrast to you poor folk trudging around freezing ields. Janet and I are off to Albany (Southern West Aust) for the Caledonian Society Burns Supper on 23rd January. Got the honour of delivering The Immortal Speech, which is a bit daunting. St George's Cathedral in Perth (West Australia) is having a Burns Supper, too, which I will miss and which is a bit of a turn-up for the English/Aussie Church. Robbie Burns would be delighted to hear of this I reckon, gi'en his stance on that issue! Cheers ... David Murray,

Ahbsolootly Maisie - fancing leaving "Memory" oot. I was half asleep at the keyboard last night when I wrote that. And besides, the only time I have eaten Black Pudding (at Bunessan, Isle of Mull) it wasn't very dry --- it was floating in half an inch of liquid fat! Ooooogh! But the "venison" was dry ... as chips (Aussie expression meaning wood chips for lighting the fire). Hi Donald, thought it might be you doon there. Thanks for the offer. We are staying with friends at Emu Point - and bringing them as guests. See you there. Cheers all ...David ----- Original Message ----- From: "Maisie Egger" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]>; "Bishop David Murray" <[email protected]> Sent: Friday, December 17, 2010 2:56 AM Subject: Re: [WIG LIST] Tatties, Hokers etc > ...but David, you're going to refer to it as the Immortal MEMORY! noo, > aren't ye? > > I gave a "fantastic" "Memory" one year (swiped it from somebody else's > notes --- not copyright) about how much Robert Burns's writings meant to > President Abraham Lincoln, who all the time carried around a small volume > of his works to which he could refer. The story goes that he could recite > Burns at will. He was also equally impressed with Shakespeare. > ------------------------------------------------ > > Further on a previous comment about the diet of the Scots vs the Irish, I > hope listers don't mind the inclusion of this snippet taken from Frank > McCourt's book "Angela's Ashes" about his childhood in Limerick. An Irish > friend here where I live also came from Limerick and said he wrote a load > of rubbish as "nobody" lived that way. I should have quoted: "I would > rather have eyes that cannot see; ears that cannot hear; lips that cannot > speak, than a heart that cannot love" - (Robert Tizon) Surely, if even > just a mere handful lived like this in Limerick this woman should have had > compassion. Surely the Irish who came over as transient agricultural > workers, earning "whatever" might have met with more understanding about > their economic plight among their own "class" when they came to work the > fields in Wigtownshire. I hope so. > > Anyway, here's the excerpt from McCourt's book on the family's Christmas > fare. If his mother had stuck to potatoes, or had even known how to make > haggis from the offal "leftovers" with oats, maybe three of the children > would not have died (malnutrition likely). Frank McCourt is a contemporary > writer, and so the events occurred during the period when he was born in > 1930 (he died 2009) in USA. The family returned to Ireland when he was a > small boy, and then in his later teens he decided to return to the USA. > As a teacher in the USA he would live light years away from his horribly > deprived upbringing as a child in Limerick. > ------------------------------------------------- > > > SNIPPET: NY-born author/teacher Frank McCOURT writes about one Christmas > when the family returned to Ireland to live in his memoir "Angela's Ashes" > (1996). > > "Mam takes Malachy and me to the St. Vincent de Paul Society to stand in > the queue and see if there's any chance of getting something for the > Christmas dinner -- a goose or a ham, but the man says everyone in > Limerick is desperate this Christmas. He gives her a docket for groceries > at McGrath's shop and another one for the butcher. No goose says the > butcher, no ham. No fancy items when you bring the docket from the St. > Vincent de Paul. What you can have now, missus, is black pudding and tripe > or a sheep's head or a nice pig's head. No harm in a pig's head, missus, > plenty of meat and children love it, slice that cheek, slather it with > mustard and you're in heaven, though I suppose they wouldn't have the > likes of that in America where they're mad for the steak and all classes > of poultry, flying, walking or swimming itself. He tells Mam, no she can't > have boiled bacon or sausages and if she has any sense she'll take the > pig's head before they're all gone the way the poor people of Limerick are > clamoring for them. Mam says the pig's head isn't right for Christmas and > he says 'tis more than the Holy Family had in that cold stable in > Bethlehem long ago. You wouldn't find them complaining if someone offered > them a nice fat pig's head. No, they wouldn't complain, says Mam, but > they'd never eat a pig's head. They were Jewish .... The butcher takes the > pig's head off a shelf ... wraps the head in newspaper, hands it to Mam > and says, Happy Christmas. Then he wraps up some sausages and tells her, > Take these sausages for your breakfast on Christmas Day. Mam says, Oh, I > can't afford sausages, and he says, Am I asking you for money? Am I? Takes > these sausages. They might help make up for the lack of a goose or a ham. > Sure, you don't to do that, says Mam. I know that, missus. If I had to do > it, I wouldn't. Mam says she has a pain in her back, that I'll have to > carry the pig's head. I hold it against my chest but it's damp and when > the newspaper begins to fall away everyone can see the head. Mam says, I'm > ashamed of me life that the world should know we're having pig's head for > Christmas. Boys from Leamy's National School see me and they point and > laugh. Aw, Gawd, look at Frankie McCourt an' his pig's snout. Is that what > the Yanks ate for Christmas dinner, Frankie? One calls to another, Hey, > Christy, do you know how to ate a pig's head? No, I don't, Paddy. Grab him > by the ears an' chew the face offa him. And Christy says, Hey, Paddy, do > you know the only part of the pig the McCourts don't ate? No, I don't > Christy. The only part they don't ate is the oink. After a few streets the > newspaper is gone altogether and everyone can see the pig's head. His nose > is flat against my chest and pointing up at my chin and I fell sorry for > him because he's dead and the world is laughing at him. My sister and two > brothers are dead, too, but if anyone laughed at them I'd hit them with a > rock." > > Check out the Ireland GenWeb website at: http://www.irelandgenweb.com/y, > ------------------------------------------------------- > > [WIG LIST] Tatties, Hokers etc > > > Gosh, I thought I got it tough, when as a 11/12 year old one of my > Saturday jobs was to remove really dirty tatties covered in mud and grit > from large hessian sacks and weigh them on a balance into 7 and 14 pound > brown paper bags for sale in my Dad and Mum's Grocery shop in Swanbourne, > Western Australia. I hated the feel of the tatties on my hands --- it was > like scrubbing my hands with a dry floor scrubbing brush. Somehow I > stalled on the job and caused the work to last for ages, when, if I had > had any wisdom at all at the time, I would have gie'in the job laldy and > got it over and done with. > > I did this in a building clad and roofed with rusty flat-iron in century > and above century temperatures --- in contrast to you poor folk trudging > around freezing ields. > > Janet and I are off to Albany (Southern West Aust) for the Caledonian > Society Burns Supper on 23rd January. Got the honour of delivering The > Immortal Speech, which is a bit daunting. St George's Cathedral in Perth > (West Australia) is having a Burns Supper, too, which I will miss and > which is a bit of a turn-up for the English/Aussie Church. Robbie Burns > would be delighted to hear of this I reckon, gi'en his stance on that > issue! > > Cheers ... David Murray, > > > >