Burns night

Jan the 25th is Burns night , the night to celebrate Scotland’s national poet : Robert Burns. Well I’m making the haggis and all and sundry are invited. I know this is going to set of a deluge of mails for :discodance: and against :raspberry: the humble haggis so we will have our normal bill of fair available too. There will be speeches [delivered by non Scots] and lots of whiskey, in fact we’re haveing a BYO policy on whiskey if you don’t mind sharing :bravo: . I’m looking forward to a fun night. but we’ll not run the event past 12 as many people have to work early Tuesday morning :noway: . Still if you want to stay on till the wee hours for a drink that’s alright too. “Weel are ye wordy of a grace as lang’s my arm.”
Please come to Mr. Sausage’s Kitchen Bade rd section 3 , lane 12, alley 4, no.5-1. We’ll kick things off with the Selkirk Grace at aboot 8pm.

Will thaas aul veery foosinating, laddie, boot wher tha fook issit? Put yer wee sousage adrees oop.

Sorry Jimmi , It’ll be at Mr. Sausage’s Kitchen Bade rd. sec 3. Lane 12, alley 4 no. 5-1. If you’re coming do you want to do the " Address to a Haggis"?

I’d love that honor, but I could never memorize it in time, nor do I hae a kilt.

Kilts are optional, as is the issue of ones
scottishness. Burns night is about how simple honest folk are entitled to get through life with fun and dignity…and get rotten drunk on whisky[also optional] For something shorter how about 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 the lord be thankit”. :bravo: I’m particularly looking forward to some of my Taiwanese friends doing speeches :roflmao: . Everything is funnier after a few whiskys.

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 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 lyke 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 mak her spew
Wi’ perfect sconner,
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 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!

There ye gae. And I can recite it too. And pipe the bastard in, if I had my pipes. And toast the lassies.

[quote=“sandman”]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 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 lyke 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 mak her spew
Wi’ perfect sconner,
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 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!

There ye gae. And I can recite it too. And pipe the bastard in, if I had my pipes. And toast the lassies.[/quote]
But THIS is Burns. And THIS is why his name resonates so far and wide:
That man tae man the world o’er
Shall brithers be, for a’ that.

Roadkill, potatoes and ‘maudlin’ Scots slurring Burns. Just a trainride away at any time of the year for me. Thanks, auntie Isobel. Is there any word more likely to bring my Anglo-Saxon tendencies to the fore and me screaming ‘Taxi’ than the dread ceilidh? I’m still not over new year …

Ach! You just never got Whisky Kiss or the Peatbog Faeries at your ceilidhs. I could take you to a few that would rock your wee cotton socks off.

Well, the first one scarred me. made it back again at uni, but they’re always full of tossers ‘networking’, and such.

I’m with Oscar Wilde on that one. So if I go again, I’ll have to fuck a cousin. I’m sure weird Alec from Wick was giving me the eye. But I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt with his lazy eye.

Peatbog Faeries - like the name.

Aye ken the “Address to the Haggis”, but me accent’s right shite. Doesn’t quite sound the same in a South African drawl.

Sandman you are a shoe-in for the address to a haggis, do you really have a set o’ pipes? t’would be grand if ye could. I think a lot of Taiwanese food is like “roadkill” so it shouldn’t be such a stretch to try some haggis. I’m not sure how many authentic scots will be there getting shitefaced , but I think we’re all scots for that night is what Rabbie Burrns wa tryn’ tae say.

Is there for honest poverty
That hings his head, an a’ that?
The coward slave, we pass him by -
We dare be poor for a’ that!
For a’ that, an a’ that,
Our toils obscure, an a’ that,
The rank is but the guinea’s stamp,
The man’s the gowd for a’ that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an a’ that?
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine -
A man’s a man for a’ that.
For a’ that, an a’ that.
Their tinsel show, an a’ that,
The honest man, tho e’er sae poor,
Is king o men for a’ that.

Ye see you birkie ca’d ‘a lord,’
What struts, an stares, an a’ that?
Tho hundreds worship at his word,
He’s but a cuif for a’ that.
For a’ that, an a’ that,
His ribband, star, an a’ that,
The man o independent mind,
He looks an laughs at a’ that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an a’ that!
But an honest man’s aboon his might -
Guid faith, he mauna fa’ that!
For a’ that, an a’ that,
Their dignities, an a’ that,
The pith o sense an pride o worth.
Are higher rank than a’ that.

Then let us pray that come it may
[As come it will for a’ that],
That Sense and Worth o’er a’ the earth,
Shall bear the gree an a’ that.
For a’ that, an a’ that,
It’s comin yet for a’ that,
That man to man, the world, o’er
Shall brithers be for a’ that.
:notworthy:

Mr.Sausage [quote]Jan the 25th is Burns night , the night to celebrate Scotland’s national poet : Robert Burns.[/quote]
Here’s an idea especially for you Mr Sausage.

How about organising a Scottish BARD BQ on the 25th July, the date of Robert Burns funeral and his youngest son’s birth?
Burns Bangers, neeps & tatties. Haggis Burgers.

You could get some Scottish BARD BQ aprons made up.

Cheers, Aulyin

Today Taiwan, tomorrow, who knows?

I’ll think about that one

Ah, you never know. Best of luck.

pop by for a drink sometime and we’ll talk about it, me,
i like events, maybe I can get some of those facebook haggis fanciers club to come

Wish I could’ve been there. The kilt and pipes are all back in the States. Been too long since I last celebrated with other Scots-type folk. I can do a decent, though far from ideal, address to the haggis, but I can sure eat some. Mmmm-mmm! :lick: Tasty wee beasties!

“pop by for a drink”
I’m not exactly local Mr S. (Burns Corridor. sw Scotland.)

Just interested in original ideas for tourists and locals alike.

Cheers.