Auld farmer's salutation to his auld mare Maggy, on giving her a ripp of corn, to Hansel in the New Year/Address to a Scotch Haggis on New-Year's-Day
ADDRESS
to a
Scotch Haggis
on
NEW - YEAR's DAY.
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 ye up wi‘ ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious light,
Warm-reekin, rich!
Then horn for horn they stretch an' strive,
That nane be hindmost, on they drive,
Till a' heir weel-swall'd kyts belyve,
Are bent like drums;
Then auld guideman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that would staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew,
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi- sneerin 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 whiplash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bluiddy 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 bled,
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 Scotland wants nae stinkin ware,
That jups in luggies;
But if ye wish her gratefu' pray'r.
Gie her a Haggis!
FINIS.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse