Reply To: Burns night next Saturday 25th January

#296380
Brydo
Participant

    Love Haggis me yum

    Address to a Haggis

    Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
    Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race!
    Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
    Painch, tripe, or thairm:
    Weel are ye wordy of a grace
    As lang ‘s my arm.

    The groaning trencher there ye fill,
    Your hurdies like a distant hill,
    Your pin wad help to mend a mill
    In time o’ need,
    While thro’ your pores the dews distil
    Like amber bead.

    His knife see Rustic-labour dight,
    An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,
    Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
    Like onie ditch;
    And then, O what a glorious sight,
    Warm-reekin, rich!

    Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:
    Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
    Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
    Are bent like drums;
    Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
    Bethankit hums.

    Is there that owre his French ragout,
    Or olio that wad staw a sow,
    Or fricassee wad mak her spew
    Wi’ perfect sconner,
    Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view
    On sic a dinner?

    Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
    As feckless as a wither’d rash,
    His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
    His nieve a nit;
    Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash,
    O how unfit!

    But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
    The trembling earth resounds his tread,
    Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
    He’ll make it whissle;
    An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,
    Like taps o’ thrissle.

    Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,
    And dish them out their bill o’ fare,
    Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
    That jaups in luggies;
    But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,
    Gie her a Haggis!

    The only person who got all his work done by Friday was Robinson Crusoe.
    Anything i post over three lines long please assume it is an article lol.