I arrived at the event in one of Poland's finest hotels - dressed in full Scottish regalia and enjoyed a wonderful but slightly crazy evening ... culminating in the tasting of haggis (yuk) and downing several large drams of whisky (hurrah).
The celebrated Scottish poet Robert Burns was born on the 25th of January ... and first up, the 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 let the Lord be thankit.
Followed by soup ...
Then the main course - the haggis arrives:
| Address To a Haggis | ||
| 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 dicht, An' cut you up wi' ready slicht, Trenching your gushing entrails bricht, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sicht, Warm-reekin, rich! | ||
| Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive: Deil tak the hindmaist! 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're 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 ower 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 wallie nieve a blade, He'll mak it whistle; An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned, Like taps o' thristle. | ||
| Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o' fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinkin ware That jaups in luggies; But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer, Gie her a haggis! (Haggis is a kind of savoury pudding containing sheep's heart liver & lungs, minced with onion, suet, spices and oatmeal and encased in an animal's stomach and simmered for three hours!) Then you eat & drink whisky and toast everyone ... then you dance ... Tonight I am having cheese on toast! Ha! (by the way, my spell-check has just had a nervous breakdown.)  |
