<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116452" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Address to a Haggis</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,<br>Great chieftain o' the puddin'-race!<br>Aboon them a' ye tak yer place,<br>Painch, tripe, or thairm:<br>Weel are ye wordy o' a grace<br>As lang's my airm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The groaning trencher there ye fill,<br>Your hurdies like a distant hill,<br>Your pin wad help to mend a mill<br>In time o need,<br>While thro your pores the dews distil<br>Like amber bead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His knife see rustic Labour dicht,<br>An cut you up wi ready slicht,<br>Trenching your gushing entrails bricht,<br>Like onie ditch;<br>And then, Oh what a glorious sicht,<br>Warm-reekin, rich!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:<br>Deil tak the hindmaist, on they drive,<br>Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve<br>Are bent like drums;<br>Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,<br>'Bethankit' hums.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is there that ower his French ragout,<br>Or olio that wad staw a sow,<br>Or fricassee wad mak her spew<br>Wi perfect scunner,<br>Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu view<br>On sic a dinner?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor devil! see him ower his trash,<br>As feckless as a wither'd rash,<br>His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,<br>His nieve a nit:<br>Thro bloody flood or field to dash,<br>Oh how unfit!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,<br>The trembling earth resounds his tread,<br>Clap in his wallie nieve a blade,<br>He'll make it whissle;<br>An legs an arms, an heads will sned,<br>Like taps o thrissle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,<br>And dish them out their bill o fare,<br>Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware<br>That jaups in luggies:<br>But, if Ye wish her gratefu prayer,<br>Gie her a Haggis!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Burns">Robert Burns</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116452" data-title="Address to a Haggis de Robert Burns" data-description="Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,/Great chieftain o' the puddin'-race!/Aboon them a' ye tak yer place,/Painch, tripe, or thairm:/Weel are ye wordy o' a grace/As lang's my airm./The groaning trencher there ye fill,/Your hurdies like a distant hill..."></div> </div> </div>

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