Collected Pseudo-works of Robbie Burns

1994


LITTLE KNOWN AND STARTLING facts have emerged as a consequence of my performing a Gopher search on Internet. It turns out that computers were invented not by Charles Babbage in England during the early 1800's, but were actually widely available for centuries previously in Scotland.

SCOT is apparently an acronym for SuperComputers-on-Tay, a major manufacturer and employer in the Highlands during the early Middle Ages. Although destroyed by the Sassenachs after the battle of Culloden (a "day that still lives in infamy...") in order to promote Babbage's "Calculating Engine", traces of the early computer culture in Scotland remain and can be accessed on the Internet.

SOME EXAMPLES include Dynamic Random Access Memory: early computers in Scotland were limited by memory, typically causing systems to crash, and this led to much whisky drinking; to this day, every Scot knows instinctively what a "wee Dram" entails, but few know its derivation.....

Again the word CLAN actually corresponds to "computer-linked area network", adding considerable sophistication to the rustic concept of an extended family unit. Recently, Apple unwittingly resurrected part of the culture in its line of MacIntosh Computers.

THE BABBAGE CONSPIRACY did not completely destroy computer culture in Scotland, and vestiges of the network were maintained in obscure University towns, including Dumfries and Oban, where one, apparently, was used by a young poet Robert Burns. I have been able to recover a fragment of one of his poems from Cyberspace and am able to present it to you this evening. Parenthetically, Burns was not particularly computer-literate and, as we see from the tone of the verses, was both impatient and, of course, over-sexed.


The poem is entitled:

To a Mouse: On trying to log onto Internet via Modem to the Scottish National University microVax cluster, November 1785.


Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
You cause panic in my breastie!
Thou fillst my screen sae hasty
Wi' bickering brattle!
I was be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murdering pattle!

I'm truly sorry to see my union
broken by computer dominion
an' justifies my ill opinion
which makes thee rattle
all I seekst my sweet companion
An' fellow mortal

Her name is Jessie, fair I guess
I niver did yet see Jess
her Email sings o' golden hair,
her fingers nimble
as she types in caps and bold...
I hope she's no old!

Now my screen is bare and waste
an' weary I am come at last
I canna log on the VAX cluster
for students load 'em
In droves and counts past muster
they block the modem.

Och beastie, thou art not to blame
that I am turnin' nae insane
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us naught but grief an' pain,
For promised joy.

Still tho art blest, compared wi' me!
I'll use the hand that toucheth thee
to access Jessie's floppy drives
I do vow yet. --
or gie up all intercourse
on Internet!



Copyright © 1994 David W. Galbraith, Tucson, Arizona