Schlafly Channels Robert Burns' Ghost


For those who missed the poet Robert Burns's 250th birthday party last night at Schlafly Tap Room, this morning we give you a momento: original verse from corporate lawyer, brewpub owner and fly-by-night-poet Tom Schlafly himself. 

Schlafly the Scot (RFT's Best Citizen last year) and his partner Dan Kopman have been hoisting a glass to the great bard for many years now. Kopman leads a procession of haggis, Scotch ale and a traditional Scotch bagpipe band through the entire brewery. Schlafly, close behind, then climbs atop the bar in his gray and red tartan kilt to read the original poem he's penned for the occasion. Lots o' glass raising ensues.

This year's opus contains many a reference to infamous events of '08. Click on through to have a read. 

"Burns's Ghost's 250th Birthday"

From Glasgow to the Hebrides, when Scottish bagpipes wail
And drummers drum for Robert Burns, 'tis time to drink Scotch Ale.
'Tis the day when all of Scotland drinks to Robert Burns.
And if ye drink enough Scotch Ale, Old Robert's ghost returns.

His ghost returns resplendent with his sporran, tam and kilt.
And he's been known to curse in verse, should his Scotch Ale be spilt.
His kilt's the pride of Scotland. It bears the family tartan.
He wears nothing underneath. Burns's ghost is Spartan.

Although the ghost is somewhat shy, he just need lift a glass
Of Scotch Ale. Then he'll lift his kilt for every passing lass.
On Burns Night he eats haggis, Scotch eggs and cock-a-leekie,
While lassies lift the laddies' kilts to sneak a little peeky.

On Burns Night lads and lassies seem to lose their fear.
They have a transformation on this night every year.
On Robert Burns's birthday it always is the same.
After one or two Scotch Ales they all have little shame.

Burns's ghost had little shame since he was just a boy.
And that's why he feels right at home in Springfield, Illinois.
Burns's ghost loves politics and says his favorite quote:
"Though I am dead and in my grave, I'm still allowed to vote."

Governor Rod Blagojevich called the ghost one day.
He said a lot of dirty words and then said, "Pay to play."
The governor told the ghost, "Here's an offer you can't beat.
Pay me fifteen million for Obama's senate seat."

Burns's ghost replied, "This surely is a joke.
I am not a crook like you and furthermore I'm broke.
I had lots of money up until last fall.
But, thanks to Bernie Madoff, I've now lost it all.

"And even if that senate seat really were for sale,
If I had the cash, I'd spend it on Scotch Ale."
And then the ghost inquired, "Is it true that some Brazilian
Bought that other brewery for over fifty billion?

"Fifty billion dollars is an awful lot of dough.
How the hell 'd he pay for it, by letting people go?
I hear there've been some pink slips. But I should not be nosy
About how they do business down on Pestalozzi."

Since Burns's ghost's last birthday it's been quite a year
For firing good employees and cutting costs on beer.
There are savings to be found by getting rid of salaries
And ridding beer of costly nutrients and calories.

On that note Burns's ghost gives us all a wave,
Downs his beer and says, "It's time to head back to my grave."
With these parting words, he fades into the night.
The ghost of Robert Burns has vanished from our sight.

Now, I ask you all to join me in a toast
To the spirit of tonight, Robert Burns's ghost.
In his lifetime he enjoyed many pleasures without guilt.
Let's raise a glass to one who raised our spirits and his kilt.

-Tom F. Schlafly
January 25, 2009


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