Address to a Haggis
by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

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 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 an’ strive,
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
            Are bent like drums;
Then auld guidman, maist like to rive,
            Bethankit hums.

Is there that o’er 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!

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!

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 Scotland wants nae skinking ware
            That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,
            Gie her a Haggis.

Glossary
sonsie: lucky, fortunate
painch: paunch
thairm: intestine
trencher: plate
hurdies: buttocks
dight: adorned, decorated
kyte: stomach, belly
rive: to split apart
scunner: dislike, aversion
nieve: fist
sned: to chop off
skink: to serve (a drink)
jaup: to splash
luggie: a kind of large drinking vessel

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