The Feminist Lassies’ Reply
A Burns’ Night toast
Some set the laddies on one side, with lassies on the other
They expect clear lines, internal rhyme, no rebellious single mother.
You turn off the GPS while we toss and comb our tresses
You tally football players’ errors and we color-sort our dresses.
This kind of sorting in this age, is doomed to gang agley
The Medicis could say how roles worked then, or perhaps ask Char Corday.
Here the menfolk planned the meal and they’re mostly wearing skirts
To perpetuate old gender norms sets precedent that hurts.
Instead we dine to honor Scotland’s most beloved son
Renowned for wives and odes to love, not his brandished guns.
Burns used his words and wrote of mice, farming, friends, and drink
Instead of seeking to divide, or keep women at the sink.
The Scots know that the best sword is not steel but metaphoric
A lad who speaks instead of fights fares better than poor Yorick.
Scottish or not, o laddies here-you’ve thrown out these sexist boxes
No lassie here has had to settle-and some have landed foxes.
So to the laddies, one and all, tonight a glass let’s tilt.
Wet our throats and loudly cheer:
Down with trousers and up with kilts.
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