Books on castles, ghosts, famous Scots, history, travel
Books on castles, ghosts, famous Scots, history, travel

Goblinshead

Cockenzie House
22 Edinburgh Road
Cockenzie

EH32 OHY

 

Email: info@goblinshead.co.uk

 

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www.bogles.co.uk

Stories of ghosts and witchcraft to chill the nerves and intrigue the imagination…

Prices include postage to mainland UK

 

If you have any comments, praise or suggestions for improvements, please contact us at info@goblinshead.co. uk

Address to a 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 was staw a sow,

Or fricasse wad mak her spew

Wi’ perfect sconner,

Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view

On sic 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 grateful’ prayer,

Gie her a haggis!

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© Martin Coventry