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Loading Jamie Oliver data from Instagram. Please wait... @jamieoliver : Enjoy #BurnsNight guys!đđ I attach the âAddress to a Haggisâ for your convenience Fair faâ your honest, sonsie face,
Great Chieftain oâ the Puddin-race!
Aboon them aâ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang âs my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time oâ need,
While throâ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see Rustic-labour dight,
Anâ cut ye up wiâ 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 anâ strive:
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till aâ their weel-swallâd 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
Wiâ perfect sconner,
Looks down wiâ sneering, scornfuâ view
On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a witherâd rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Throâ 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,
Heâll make it whissle;
Anâ legs, anâ arms, anâ heads will sned,
Like taps oâ thrissle.
Ye Powârs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill oâ fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefuâ prayer,
Gie her a Haggis!