Piping in the haggis!

At every Burns Supper, the most special guest of all, the haggis, is brought to the top table on a plate, with a piper playing the bagpipes. Today, our haggis was piped in by one of our former pupils, who learned how to play the bagpipes while he was here at Yester.

Once the haggis arrives at the top table, one of the most important speeches of the Burns Supper is delivered. This year, Blackwatch, delivered the Address to the Haggis. The speech is below, first in Scots, then repeated in English, as it is quite a difficult speech to follow, especially for non-Scots! (This is a shortened version of the poem.)



Address to a Haggis (original)

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 worthy 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!

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

(Picture used by kind permission from LTScotland.)

Address to a Haggis (Translation)

Fair and full is your honest, jolly face,
Great chieftain of the sausage race!
Above them all you take your place,
Stomach, tripe, or intestines:
Well are you worthy of a grace
As long as my arm.

The overloaded serving tray there you fill,
Your buttocks like a distant hill,
Your pin would help to mend a mill
In time of need,
While through your pores your juices drip
Like liquid gold.

His knife see the serving-man clean,
And then cut you up with great skill,
Making a trench in your bright, gushing guts
To form a ditch,
And then, 0h! What a glorious sight!
Warm, steaming, and rich!

You powers, who make mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill of fare,
Old Scotland wants no watery stuff,
That splashes in small wooden dishes;
But if you wish her grateful prayer,
Give her [Scotland] a Haggis!