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    Address To A Haggis

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    Penny Peden
    This poem is an address to a haggis praising it as the great chieftain of the pudding race. It describes the haggis filling the groaning trencher and its pores dripping like amber beads. It contrasts those who look down on such a dinner with the haggis-fed rustic whose tread shakes the earth and can cut off legs, arms, and heads like thistle heads with his blade. It calls on the powers that care for mankind not to give Scotland any "skinking ware" but instead give her a haggis.

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    © All Rights Reserved
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    Address To A Haggis

    Uploaded by

    Penny Peden
    2K views1 page
    This poem is an address to a haggis praising it as the great chieftain of the pudding race. It describes the haggis filling the groaning trencher and its pores dripping like amber beads. It contrasts those who look down on such a dinner with the haggis-fed rustic whose tread shakes the earth and can cut off legs, arms, and heads like thistle heads with his blade. It calls on the powers that care for mankind not to give Scotland any "skinking ware" but instead give her a haggis.

    Original Description:

    Words for Address to a Haggis by Robert Burns, along with translation into English

    Original Title

    Address to a Haggis

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    This poem is an address to a haggis praising it as the great chieftain of the pudding race. It describes the haggis filling the groaning trencher and its pores dripping like amber beads. It contrasts those who look down on such a dinner with the haggis-fed rustic whose tread shakes the earth and can cut off legs, arms, and heads like thistle heads with his blade. It calls on the powers that care for mankind not to give Scotland any "skinking ware" but instead give her a haggis.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    2K views1 page

    Address To A Haggis

    Uploaded by

    Penny Peden
    This poem is an address to a haggis praising it as the great chieftain of the pudding race. It describes the haggis filling the groaning trencher and its pores dripping like amber beads. It contrasts those who look down on such a dinner with the haggis-fed rustic whose tread shakes the earth and can cut off legs, arms, and heads like thistle heads with his blade. It calls on the powers that care for mankind not to give Scotland any "skinking ware" but instead give her a haggis.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    of 1

    Address to a Haggis

    Address to a Haggis Translation

    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 worthy o' a grace
    As lang's my arm.

    Fair and full is your honest, jolly face,


    Great chieftain of the sausage race!
    Above them all you take your place,
    Stomach, tripe, or intestines:
    Well are you worthy of a grace
    As long as 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.

    The groaning trencher there you fill,


    Your buttocks like a distant hill,
    Your pin would help to mend a mill
    In time of need,
    While through your pores the dews distill
    Like amber bead.

    His knife see rustic Labour dight,


    An cut you up wi ready slight,
    Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
    Like onie ditch;
    And then, O what a glorious sight,
    Warm-reekin, rich!

    His knife see rustic Labour wipe,


    And cut you up with ready slight,
    Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
    Like any ditch;
    And then, O what a glorious sight,
    Warm steaming, 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;
    The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
    'Bethankit' hums.

    Then spoon for spoon, the stretch and strive:


    Devil take the hindmost, on they drive,
    Till all their well swollen bellies by-and-by
    Are bent like drums;
    Then old head of the table, most like to burst,
    'The grace!' hums.

    Is there that owre his French ragout,


    Or olio that wad staw a sow,
    Or fricassee wad mak her spew
    Wi perfect scunner,
    Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view
    On sic a dinner?

    Is there that over his French ragout,


    Or olio that would sicken a sow,
    Or fricassee would make her vomit
    With perfect disgust,
    Looks down with sneering, scornful view
    On such 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 bloody flood or field to dash,
    O how unfit!

    Poor devil! see him over his trash,


    As feeble as a withered rush,
    His thin legs a good whip-lash,
    His fist a nut;
    Through 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 make it whissle;
    An legs an arms, an heads will sned,
    Like taps o thrissle.

    But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,


    The trembling earth resounds his tread,
    Clap in his ample fist a blade,
    He'll make it whistle;
    And legs, and arms, and heads will cut off
    Like the heads of thistles.

    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

    You powers, who make mankind your care,


    And dish them out their bill of fare,
    Old Scotland wants no watery stuff,
    That splashes in small wooden dishes;
    But if you wish her grateful prayer,
    Give her [Scotland] a Haggis!

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