| Address to a Haggis |
 | ADDRESS TO A HAGGIS Ewan Miller addresses the haggis and serves up a brilliant performance of one of Robert Burns’ most famous Scots poems.  Address to a Haggis - the poem |   |
| ADDRESS TO A HAGGIS by Robert Burns 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 dicht, An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slicht, Trenching your gushing entrails bricht, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sicht, 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 skinkin ware That jaups in luggies; But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer, Gie her a Haggis! |