Zusammengetragen von J.MacGregor
die Ode an den Haggis von Robert Burns (in Text und Ton)
und Selkirk Grace DAS traditionelle Gedicht zum Haggis

Selkirk Grace

Some hae meat and canna eat, 
and some wad eat that want it, 
but we hae meat and we can eat, 
and sae the Lord be thankit.

Adress to the Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, 

Great chieftain o' the pudding-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 sleight, 

Trenching your gushing entrails bright, 

Like ony 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 owre his French ragout 

Or olio that wad staw a sow, 

Or fricassee wad make her spew 

Wi' perfect sconner, 

Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view 

On sic a dinner? 

Poor devil! see him owre his trash, 

As feckless as 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!