It's Burns Night
#1
Posted 25 January 2011 - 03:36 PM
Just thought I'd share it with you!
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 o' 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 you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony 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 lyke 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 ower his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bloody 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 mak 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 Scotlandwants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,
Gie her a haggis!
The Translation for those who dinnae understand!
Fair is your honest happy face
Great chieftain of the pudding race
Above them all you take your place
Stomach, tripe or guts
Well are you worthy of a grace
As long as my arm
The groaning platter there you fill
Your buttocks like a distant hill
Your skewer would help to repair a mill
In time of need
While through your pores the juices emerge
Like amber beads
His knife having seen hard labour wipes
And cuts you up with great skill
Digging into your gushing insides bright
Like any ditch
And then oh what a glorious sight
Warm steaming, rich
Then spoon for spoon
They stretch and strive
Devil take the last man, on they drive
Until all their well swollen bellies
Are bent like drums
Then, the old gent most likely to rift (burp)
Be thanked, mumbles
Is there that over his French Ragout
Or olio that would sicken a pig
Or fricassee would make her vomit
With perfect disgust
Looks down with a sneering scornful opinion
On such a dinner
Poor devil, see him over his trash
As week as a withered rush (reed)
His spindle-shank a good whiplash
His clenched fist.the size of a nut.
Through a bloody flood and battle field to dash
Oh how unfit
But take note of the strong haggis fed Scot
The trembling earth resounds his tread
Clasped in his large fist a blade
He'll make it whistle
And legs and arms and heads he will cut off
Like the tops of thistles
You powers who make mankind your care
And dish them out their meals
Old Scotlandwants no watery food
That splashes in dishes
But if you wish her grateful prayer
Give her a haggis!
#2
Posted 25 January 2011 - 04:12 PM
ENJOY Colin!
Vicki
#5
Posted 25 January 2011 - 06:06 PM
Shooting With Still Fingers - http://shootingwiths...s.blogspot.com/
#6
Posted 25 January 2011 - 07:43 PM
#8
Posted 25 January 2011 - 09:29 PM
McTavish, on 25 January 2011 - 08:03 PM, said:
Don't worry, a Scot can never be banished, the English been trying it for Centuries!
#9
Posted 25 January 2011 - 10:37 PM
Edinburgh Colin, on 25 January 2011 - 09:29 PM, said:
McTavish, on 25 January 2011 - 08:03 PM, said:
Don't worry, a Scot can never be banished, the English been trying it for Centuries!
Beverly
"A wild patience has taken me this far..."
#11
Posted 25 January 2011 - 10:43 PM
Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's comin yet for a' that
That man to man, the world o'er,
Shall brithers be for a' that.
And sisters too......
Never grow old, never die young.
#12
Posted 25 January 2011 - 10:45 PM
Tinbasher, on 25 January 2011 - 10:43 PM, said:
Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's comin yet for a' that
That man to man, the world o'er,
Shall brithers be for a' that.
And sisters too......
Beverly
"A wild patience has taken me this far..."
#16
Posted 28 January 2011 - 04:13 PM
field hospital that's doing fantastic things with the troops. He wants to
know what is so special about the place, so he arranges a tour.
When he gets to the ward, it's full of patients with no obvious sign of
injury or illness. He's perplexed, so goes up to the first bed and greets
the soldier there.
The patient replies:
"Fair fa your honest sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin race,
Aboon them a ye take yer place,
Painch, tripe or thairm,
As langs my airm."
The general is confused, so he just grins and moves on to the next patient.
That soldier responds:
"Some hae meat an canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it,
But we hae meat an we can eat,
So let the Lord be thankit."
Even more confused, and his grin now rictus-like, the commander moves on to
the next patient, who immediately begins to chant:
"Wee sleekit, cowerin, timorous beasty,
O the panic in thy breasty,
Thou needna start awa sae hastie,
Wi bickering brattle."
Now seriously troubled, the general turns to the accompanying doctor and
asks, "Is this a psychiatric ward?"
"No, not at all," replies the doctor. "This is the Serious Burns unit."
#18
Posted 29 January 2011 - 02:49 AM
dangerousdave, on 28 January 2011 - 04:13 PM, said:
field hospital that's doing fantastic things with the troops. He wants to
know what is so special about the place, so he arranges a tour.
When he gets to the ward, it's full of patients with no obvious sign of
injury or illness. He's perplexed, so goes up to the first bed and greets
the soldier there.
The patient replies:
"Fair fa your honest sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin race,
Aboon them a ye take yer place,
Painch, tripe or thairm,
As langs my airm."
The general is confused, so he just grins and moves on to the next patient.
That soldier responds:
"Some hae meat an canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it,
But we hae meat an we can eat,
So let the Lord be thankit."
Even more confused, and his grin now rictus-like, the commander moves on to
the next patient, who immediately begins to chant:
"Wee sleekit, cowerin, timorous beasty,
O the panic in thy breasty,
Thou needna start awa sae hastie,
Wi bickering brattle."
Now seriously troubled, the general turns to the accompanying doctor and
asks, "Is this a psychiatric ward?"
"No, not at all," replies the doctor. "This is the Serious Burns unit."
Ha, Ha, DD love it, I copied and pasted that onto my word document of good - jokes, quotes, silly sayings etc for later use when hopefully I can get the credit. (better not use it here next year as I bet I get huckled for stealing it!)
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