Rabbie Burns in Glendale Hash

Run #928  Jan 26,2004

Hare: Basket Boom Boom

Location: One-half mile south of Center Street. No, one-half mile NORTH of Center street, Burrillville, RI

Weather: Low 20's, Clear

Present: Dr WHO, Oozing SD, SESYB, EB RIPTA, Just Dan, Seamus.

Wee slikit cow'rin' timourous beasties: Async, WIPOS, Bondo Jovi, Fuwangi.

The Run:

‘Twas the hash closest to th’ birthdate of our darlin’ Rabbie Burns o’ Alloway, Ayrshire. The hare, bein’ a fa’ laithron doup, sent d’erections to befuddle the canniest hasher. None th’ less, a few hardy Scots: McWHO, McOoze, and MacB*tch actually found the start, at the Water Treatment Facility in Burrillville, a deevil’s dizzen rods arselins to Center Road. All wha’ cam were appropriately garbed for the occasion in kilties (although wi’ the cauld, they all wore gravats and graithes to shelter their hurdies). Some single maut was shared. A wee bit late then, the first arrivals were sent out by the hare from the cul-de-sac at the end of Locust Street sou’west into the hielands uphill. But they didna dod far, for lack o' flour. When McRIPTA and Just McDan arrived, the sonsie wankards were nawt bu' a few yards into the heather. Trail was finally foun'. Och, but the visit in the braw braes was all too short as the motley crew, led by Oozing, cam’ back oot onto the Bronco highway, and turned south.

After a wee jaunt, a check caused much whiltie-whaltie. But finally, Oozing hied th’ trail on the westron side of the road, crossin’ the parking lot for an industrial area into th’ woods. Unco monie trails were encountered, but for marks, ‘most nane!. A second check mark had Oozing turning nordlin, SESYB continuin’ atweeesh the twain wast, and WHO heading southron. All were ignoring the hare's mim-mou’ed horn. Oozing circl’d through the woods counterclockwise and cam’ oot on the driveway for another industrial area. SESYB was ge’en the noo’ by the hare. Thus, she ganged more agley than a'. WHO hied a clockwise circle, picking up EB RIPTA and Just Dan (who dinna ken tha' ye canna follow this puir laddie and no' 'spect glaikit folly!). WHO led them a sonsie treat, to within 100 yds of Oozing's path (but no where near th' trail). He then gave up, and they backtracked 'til they found fair trail crossing a lea to th' industrial driveway. They encountered the hare.

The true trail was then followed throu' th' woods to Lapham Farm Road. The donsie asphalt twere followed west past the nordlins o' Sucker Pond, and then the band turned south into the farways of a gowf course under construction. Ach, the braes were bonnie with drifted snow, ice patches and froizen dirt/sand  sae black and bare. Th' cauld blast sent plaidies aflappin' and Dr WHO afallin'. But waur be the marks? The hare, as the whatreck he was, continually was hadin’ ilka hasher to the unco puirlie marked trail. At last, they crost onto the ice o'  Sucker Pond. A virgin Mary statue mairked the path an' they ganged thegither crost th' ice, diagonally south to the cloobhouse (under construction) and foun' the BC on the lee shore.

Hoots! Bottled bleeries and just a drappie or twa o' single maut were drinkit, and when the cauld began to penetrate thro' to th' hurdies, the hare sent the pack off into a bonnie quarry tha' twould in future be the back nine. Deil, the mair dangrous opportunies to cull the weak from the hash on the droukit rims of some deep excavations, an' nane were lost! Twas but a puir, firked circle-jerk for a' that! The pack kenned the horn and hied back to the hare's Jeep, parkit on the Bronco Highway. They were brought back to the cars a' th' start and the hare wyled them hame to circle up at 290 Snake Hill Road.

Th ratin's' were unco fair, for th' sake of Rabbie: a fair girdin’, braw cauld weether, Bondo Jovi a’ hame by his lane, and not a yin shoin’ o’ the hare’s wee sonsie pintle. The total ganged 6.9. The hashit twas ge'en to puir Dogmeat for the crime o' marryin' the blastit gonuph hare! They rowted a few duddie sangs, and swang low, all waur’t for th’ fairin’ Och, laddies bu' then: they gie them a HAGGIS! Warm, reekin', rich, an' a' that! An’ wi’ neeps and taters! Aye, and twas a fine nicht for a', an' the bard no doot was smilin' in the grave in Caledonie, for th' honor wha' hae be'n doon by the Rhode Island Hash and for auld lang syne.

Oon Oon!

McWHO