Scotland’s favorite son and poet, Robert Burns, had a heart for the old ways. In the last ten years of his young life (he died at 37), Robbie worked to find and save the faded lines of local legend, the remnants of fleeting tune that haunted and hid among the high hills and upon the mists of the lonely moors.

One such verse was penned by The Bard in 1794 and printed in 1796. In his walks and rests at the local stops, The Ploughman Poet heard bits, pieces and perhaps more, perhaps much of the whole weave and warp of a welcome and much loved lilt. Or, perhaps, he glimpsed only a line or two, and his native sense and wandering imagination provided the rest.

Of this, we may never know. Of this, we have the whole. Of this, you have the lines:

“My love is like a red, red rose

“That’s newly sprung in June;

“My love is like the melody

“That’s sweetly played in tune.”

As can be imagined, much has been written of the what, where and why of this, his sweet-found rhyme, “A Red Red Rose.” But, stop. Is there more to be seen? When Robert scrivened in his homeland of Scotland, at evening on a small town’s bench, tired and bent, did he glance up and see her, as she walked past and smiled a fleeting smile back?

In all the countries of all the earth, Scotland has the highest percentage of redheads. Lads and lassies with the brightest and rarest of hair colors. Deep burgundy, burnt orange, shining copper. Red hair. In most lands, one maybe two percent have the red flowing locks. In Robbie’s homeland, 13% of the population are redheaded. And, with that red hair, is seen the twinkle of gray-green eyes and freckle or two over fine fair skin.

“As fair art thou, my bonnie lass” is the very next verse.

Do you see what the poet Robbie saw?

Do you see her?

Young Robert raised his eyes and saw among the lines on his worn note page, her passing smile and bright red hair.

She held his gaze and in that moment gave the verse its heart and the words their fire.

“My love is like a red, red rose” — the first line.

“As fair thou art, my bonnie lass” — line #5.

And, in closing, our poet plays the words as only a poet can:

“And fare thee well, my only love,

“And fare thee well awhile!

“And I will come again, my love,

“Though it were ten thousand mile.”

The fair glance of a redheaded lass did fare well for Robert and his noted lines.

To the poet, there is little more compelling than love at first sight.

The sight of a comely lass with flashing red hair. . . .

John Wayne did not have a chance.

In the 1952 film “The Quiet Man,” Maureen O’Hara plays a young Irish maiden by the name of Mary Kate Danaher. Mary Kate is herding sheep in a field when she glances up and catches the eye of John Wayne, playing the character Sean Thornton, a retired boxer returning to the lands of his family. Of that scene, Maureen O’Hara says it was the most important in the movie: “I felt very strongly that if the audience believed it was love at first sight, then we would have lighting in a bottle.” The audience believed and was captivated, as was Sean. It was a moment captured in time. It was love at first sight. It was lighting in a bottle.

By the way, did I mention, Maureen and Mary Kate have fiery red hair to match their temperaments?

And, did I say, the Irish have the next highest percentage of redheads, at ten percent of the population?

Redheads have made a stir and left a lasting impression. The remembered glance of a much-revered poet and the lasting sight of a much-loved actor provide a pleasing telling and welcome show. The burning bright locks hold special sway and place among us the many watchers.

To the redheads: Bravo and Hurrah!!

Grandpa Jim