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January 25, 2007
Burns Night
In Honour of Robert Burns, the great Scottish poet, whose birthday we celebrate today and who wrote the following in praise of his favourite dish:
Ode To A Haggis (roughly translated from old Scots)
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 your juices emerge
Like amber beads.
His knife having seen hard labour wipes
And cuts you with great skill
Digging into your gushing insides bright
Like any ditch
And then oh what a glorious sight
Warm, steaming, rich.
Is there that over his French Ragout
Or olio that would sicken a pig
Or fricasee would make her vomit
With perfect disgust
Looks down with sneering scornful opinion
On such a dinner.
Poor devil, see him over his trash
As weak as a withered rush
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 tops of thistles.
You powers who make mankind your care
And dish them out their meals
Old Scotland wants no watery food
That splashes in dishes
But if you wish her grateful prayer
Give her a haggis.
For further information please see: haggis
| By j and b | 10:25 PM
Comments
YUM! Did you have any? I blogged about Rabbie Burns, too. *smile* Can't have lived in Scotland without thinking of Burns night!
Posted by: sperlonga at January 26, 2007 02:57 PM