Great Scot! A New Competition!
Posted by: Belvoir HQ
Monday is Burns Night. And with this annual event approaching rapidly, here on the farm we’re celebrating all that’s Scottish with a fabulous new competition.
Burns Night may have been held on a completely different date if merchants born in Ayrshire didn’t realise their mistake. The first Burns Supper was held in 1801 on what they thought was Burns’ birthday. It was two years later that they realised they’d got the wrong date and to this day the celebrations take place on the 25th of January.
And to make this Burns Night go off with a bang we’re offering top-notch prizes to five lucky winners. But like Burns’ poetry we’ll tease you and move on.
We’ve got our haggis, cock-a-leekie soup, tatties and neeps ready for the main supper and also a fine bottle of Scotch whisky to accompany proceedings. Perhaps, like us, you need a little something to take the edge off the whisky, so we suggest mixing our organic ginger cordial with a bit of water and whisky to provide a less overpowering version.
Each supper starts with a reading of Burns’ poem The Selkirk Grace:
Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
Sae let the Lord be thankit.
Burns’ poetry uses the Scottish language and dialect to comment on the wonderful Scottish landscape and people that inhabited it. Which neatly brings us on to this month’s competition. Because we’d like you to do the same.
The Competition
In true Burns style, we’d like you to compose a poem about your hometown or homeland – and if you can put it in your own dialect, even better!
Submit your poem in the comment box below.
Five lucky winners will each receive a gift pack of three bottles of our ginger cordial. We’ll announce the winners on the 22nd February along with some exciting news about new drinks for this summer.
So find your muse and grab a pen, and we look forward to reading your entries! (Terms and conditions are here.)
Category: Competition, Ginger Cordial 42 comments »
Norfolk be beautiful I’m sure
Be better with Belvoir
Veggies I be eating
not that Norfolk’s famous fare
So heres to you and you
Well, I’ll post in dialect, but I doubt you’ll understand it! My dialect is Ilson (Ilkeston)
Ey up, mi duck, ah’s it gooin? Arta rate?
Ah’m jus’ in me way fer a trawl up Bath Strait,
Sundee dinner, termorrer, if I ain’t got a badly rabbit,
So up ter market for nobby greens, as is me ‘abit,
Call in ter Bailey’s, gerra nice chunk o’ pork,
An ov’er t’ Copper Kettle ter gerrova t’walk,
Dahn t get me ‘Appy Liza from John’s News,
Might tret mesen ter a bag o’ peppermint chews,
Back dahn ter bottom, past owd swimmin baths,
Remember when it wer theer? We did ay some laughs,
Call in t’chippy for fish n mix wrapped,
Eight quid, ‘e’s askin’, I must be ‘afe tapped,
Berra then cookin; though, when yer stuffed from that ‘ill,
Eyup! Is this me bus? Nah, this un’s gooin’ ter Mill,
Theer’s my bus, stuck up be’ind it,
See yer agen, duck, and if it ain’t lost yer won’t find it!
Translation!
Hello, my dear, how are you? All right?
I’m going to have a walk up Bath Street
Cooking Sunday dinner tomorrow, if I don’t have a hangover.
To the market first for some brussel sprouts,
Then the butchers shop for a pork joint,
Over to the cafe for some much needed refreshments after the 1 in 10 incline of Bath St,
Then to the papershop for the local Ilkeston Advertiser,
Maybe a bag of sweets as well,
Walking all the way back down – remember when the swimming baths were there?
We had some laughs in that place,
I’ll pop in the chip shop for fish, chips and mushy peas to take home,
Eight pounds for a meal! I must be half-silly to pay it, but it’s better than cooking when you’ve negotiated that hill.
Is this my bus? No, it’s going to Langley Mill.
I see my bus behind it though.
Traditional Ilkeston goodbye meaning “watch how you go and don’t waste time”.
Fair Embra is my lowland hame
With sivvin hills and worldwide fame.
The brawest place you’ll ever see
A capital but still quite wee.
From Castlehill to Granton Docks
I love each inch cos Embra rocks!
It ay arf friendly in old Walsall town,
Youme always med welcome wiv a smile not a frown.
Wiv faggots and pays to tempt ya for yer tea,
it’s one in a million, like Belvoir yow see.
We bide in a toon thats cried Dundee
Its a braw wee place tae be
If ye’re a culture vulture we hae the airts
Wir universities hae fowk fae a the pairts
Theres twa fitba teams an the hame o The Dandy
A totty wee airport thats affy handy
Theres a train station, an buses an a
An we looked affy bonny when we were covered in sna.
trans Dundee, a thriving, artistic and cosmopolitan city is conveniently located with good transport links!
Rolling hills, woodland, brook
Sheep graze, cattle stare.
Red Kite, queen on the wing
Radnor, a land so fair.
Ode to Milton Keynes
O my Luve’s like Milton Keynes
That’s full of concrete cows;
O my Luve’s like the Xscape building
That’s skylines like a bow.
As fair art thou, my Bletchley,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee Enigma code,
Till ya puzzle makes me cry:
A’ the Roundabouts,
Make me dizzy round and round again
For thee cant get lost in Milton Keynes
For if ya do just catch a train.
So fare thee weel, my Newest City,
And fare thee weel awhile!
For I luve thee to ol’ MK Dons,
Cos to my face ya bring a smile.
Welcome to Luton, Beds
Red Bricked, austere and grimey
Follower yonder blue signs (M1)
And find some decent blighty!
A Burn’s lass, I live in Ayr
But to win Belvoir’s fare
Would make my life complete
If Ayr and Belvoir could only meet
I live in a town famous for roundabouts
and concrete cows often vandalised by Lager Louts!
A town who purchased their own football team,
‘Go on the Don’s’ the fans all scream!
We have a theatre with top notch shows,
and a huge city centre which sells lots of clothes!
It’s brought Cleo Laine and Kevin Whately to our screen
The town I live in is good old Milton Keynes!
It Is glorious to live in Devon
yes it feels you are close to heaven
the moorland and the beach
blackberries and goosegogs hard to reach
Devon is wonderful in any season
why not visit, you dont need a reason
My hometown is the fair city of Brizzle
With gert lush streets and shops.
I luvs to wander round about
It really ’tis the tops.
With Brunel’s bridge and railway station
The old combines with new
And being built on seven hills
You get to keep fit too!
Ee bah gum it’s cawd
in Colne on t’hill
and on the Lancashire moors
Aahd move to spain
But it’d be a pain
getting black puddin’ imported.
I cums from Brizzle,wurz that I er you say,
Thurs me, me muh and granfer Ray.
Wer all a bunch of Meaders past Wessbree by Shire,
I shop down Asdawl once a week that one down by the Flyer.
Ee cas see the Spenshun Bridge from up Bemmie Down,
We go ther on a Sa ‘urday night and get ammered in the Crown.
Sometimes I drive to the shopping maul I drives a Ondawl Civic
It really is a proper job its Gert lush innit.
Spring in Whatcom County Faire
trees are budding
rivers are flooding
Snow melts into trenches of force
birds mated before
now consider divorce
grey frosted skies
now painted blue
everything in pastel colored hue
a tree once bare now alights
and chases away
winter’s nasty bite
as for speakin in my own native tounge,
here in the Northwest, boring is how it is done!
Kettering,in the Midlands
Holds no real charm
With,wunt,kent,ent gunna
The natives mean no harm
Terrace streets full of wheelie bins
Tin cans all roll along
Three baseball caps per person
Hey,Burbury’s not wrong!
Mock posh people do witter
They shop in Next and Marks
Whilst the locals go Aldi
With their toddlers,who bark
But I love it here,its my home
With Wickstead park so near
Where the asbo yobs patrol
I hold my Kett’rin so dear.
gosport our southcoast hamlet town
dont let the weather get us down
our stones on beach our forts still stand
beautiful land our our hamlet town
T’was Bradford I wer’ born n bread, Mi ma n fatha too,
Wi back t’ backs n high rise flats n a sky of grey not blue,
A town a closed down factories, yet Bradford holds me heart,
cos that is where me family is, of which Bradford feels a part
My ‘ome town is Burton On Trent,
Famed brewing o’ beer- heaven sent,
(So water’s hard, in any event.)
We boast Toyota, Pirelli & Nestle too,
These workers all sip local brew.
Not I, refined Belvoir’s first choice,
It’s your round – I ‘ear a voice.
So quick off to the loo………
Just send the Organic Ginger Cordial!!!!!
Ha Way mam am off to the Toon
Wi are lass this afternoon
We ganna grab a bite to eat
and sit in the pub and wait for pete
I come from Wickford,
It’s a small Essex town,
place of wide boys and crime,
always stuff going down,
Blond girls, white stilletos,
drunken yobs off their head,
but its where i was born,
and sleep soundly in bed.
ooi London my giza mate,
you can be scary and unfriendly but i think you’re great
no one talks to you or looks you in the eye
but whatever you want to do it’s all there for you to try
Ooh arh we be in the fens,
A tractor comes round every bend,
There are fields galore,
And for hills we wan’ more,
And there’s sugar beet aplenty!!!!
the best place to be
is in Scotland’s North East
made up you see
o’ man and beast
and bonny fields
and skies of blue
and lots of lovely things to do.
Ah a ‘ampshire hog ar will be,
thick in the ‘ead and strong in the ‘nee,
just send thee some cordial and yer agree,
Belvoir is better than all that gnats pee.
The Toun of Troon Is Close By Ayr
The Hame of The Baird That is Our Rab
A Land of Gowf, and Beaches Fair
And that makes it all Absolutely Fab.
Obviously, not everyone in Ayrshire was born a poet!
Nardendee wotdardooin I would say.
In land o steel.
Best non for Monkeys and cocker it is today.
Weadlotof watter back in 07.
wunt talk like this if i came from Devon.
Tarra sithi
The Romans used to wash their hair down in the Plessey river,
and Kings and knights on battlefields their swords did quiver,
as they defended Bamburgh as the country’s Monarch home,
and gave us law and God and hope in Cuthbert’s holy tome.
Northumbria she sings and whispers, ghosts caught in her soil,
the clicks and clacks and manly cries of miners as they toil,
and as factory towers, or reflections of them, kiss the smoky sky,
the liberated spirits of the weary labourer floats by.
Now our towns are packed with friends, the streets are safe and neat,
and every shopper smiles with pride at bobbies on the beat.
With every modern con at hand it’s an easy time to be alive at last,
but I will never stop listening to those voices of Northumbria’s past.
Alright youth its Ol from Sheff
I hear your thirst for something Best
So bring yourself, If wife then bring her
I`ve got a crate of Belvoir Ginger
Ayrshire is the place to be
Its got outstanding scenery
Theres Irvine, Girvan, Troon and Ayr
Lots of places to eat fine fare
Sandy beaches to walk along
Bit chilly though so keep yer clathes on
Of course we have the hame of Rabbie
Its been done up and is no longer scabby
Theres lots and lots of things to do
So come along it would be guid to see you
I live near the town of Tandragee
With my hairy fox terrier, Miss Heidi
A town that’s famed for its’ rollicking boys
Who are certainly not shy nor coy
So please charge your glass with Belvoir Ginger
And let the taste of the cordial in your mouth linger
I’m from Warrington, mate, I cannot lie,
It’s a town’a strange iden-it-i an’ I’ll tell yer why,
We’re arf way from Manchest-oh,
Arf way from the ‘Pool,
So when 50%’s saying ‘our kid’,
The other ‘arfs calming down and playin’ it keewl.
It’s rightly called the Warring-town,
Cos our scallies, they like ta fight.
But the Norf west’s God’s own country,
So don’t take the mickey mate, only I’ve got that right!
Ah canna beat the air,
That silky sal air.
oor fim the moontains.
As cald as ye like.
The rain beats yur heed.
It hurts ike it bleeds.
Such is the weather.
Af where ah lay ma heed.
Im a Narfalf (norfolk) dumpling
I like me crab n Bootiful turkey
But if its a drink im a plumpin for
Belvoirs the best I always want more
I’m a quine fae Aberdein
A finer toon yiv niver sein
the harber wi the boaties and smell o fish
the langest beach ye could ever wish
(but ye’ll nae bide lang near that caul North Sea
so awa doon the Beach Cafe for a cuppie o tea)
Or tak a hike up Union Street
An see far thae cosmipolitan fowks a meet
Daeing shopping in the Malls till late
Nae like the aul days o the Castlegate!
im a derby duck
with lots of luck
feelin pawly
improvement surely
with belvoir ginger
im not a minger
so giz a taste
arrive post haste
ill be avan a laugh
when it gets to my gaff
cheers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hartlepool is my home town
fish and chips and the fish sands
what a treat
but who hung the monkey we will never know
it certainly put on a show
I’ll dae anythin for a drink!
Even tell ye whit a think
Glesga toon’s the best aroon
It disnae really stink!
Ode to Gloucester
Glawster’s got old spot, rugger and beer
So catch the next buz and we’ll see yous ‘ere.
Walk the via sacra, it aint that far,
An’ bring ya babby ‘cos its safe from them cars.
See the cathedral mind, we’re famous for that,
‘Arry Potter wuz filmed there and that’s a fact.
We wuz ‘oping he’d use ‘is magic and charm
To rustle us up a Belvoir Fruit farm,
Cos thats all we’re missin’ in this city of old,
Class in a glass would turn us silver to gold!
Am a weel traevill’d Scots quine,
Hame fae monny years awa,
Fars better than this hame o’ mine.
Bonnie hills, bonnie birdies n’aah,
Coothie folk, cannie wei their time.
It’s unka cauld but cosy by the burnin’ loggies,
Ma bairns laugh at “Fairforfochan” like it’s boggies.
Far could be better than this grand place o’ mine
For this weel traevill’d wee Scots quine.
Bardney is the place of my home.
I return there after I’ve had a roam.
People always leave their doors open wide
Because monks left St Oswald’s body outside
[...] at Belvoir Fruit Farms, we’ve been trawling through your Great Scot! competition entries. My, they are [...]