DIY Burn's Dinner

[Gilvray]

The Translation in Sassenach

Fair is your honest happy face
Great chieftain of the pudding race
Above them all you take your place
Stomach, tripe or guts
Well are you worthy of a grace
As long as my arm

The groaning platter there you fill
Your buttocks like a distant hill
Your skewer would help to repair a mill
In time of need
While through your pores the juices emerge
Like amber beads

His knife having seen hard labour wipes
And cuts you up with great skill
Digging into your gushing insides bright
Like any ditch
And then oh what a glorious sight
Warm steaming, rich

Then spoon for spoon
They stretch and strive
Devil take the last man, on they drive
Until all their well swollen bellies
Are bent like drums
Then, the old gent most likely to rift (burp)
Be thanked, mumbles

Is there that over his French Ragout
Or olio that would sicken a pig
Or fricassee would make her vomit
With perfect disgust
Looks down with a sneering scornful opinion
On such a dinner

Poor devil, see him over his trash
As week as a withered rush (reed)
His spindle-shank a good whiplash
His clenched fist.the size of a nut.
Through a bloody flood and battle field to dash
Oh how unfit

But take note of the strong haggis fed Scot
The trembling earth resounds his tread
Clasped in his large fist a blade
He'll make it whistle
And legs and arms and heads he will cut off
Like the tops of thistles

You powers who make mankind your care
And dish them out their meals
Old Scotland wants no watery food
That splashes in dishes
But if you wish her grateful prayer
Give her a haggis!

[Gilvray]

A Toast to the Lassies

Gentlemen, please rise...

Together we stand, here in praise
For the women around us and in our days,
Like Robert Burns, he once knew
That we love our lassies, though he had more than a few

When in our arms, they bring us untold pleasure
These are our lassies, for they are a true treasure,
We seek to marry them, it is said
For nothing more than to get them to ... wed.

They feed our spirit, they feed our soul
For many of us, they fill our bowl.
They care for us, they keep us well
Though occasionally, they make it feel like ... heaven.

They teach us manners, they teach us style,
For many of us, that takes quite a while.
They improve with age, while we do not
For that is clear, looking at you lot.

For the parcel of rogues, I see here tonight,
It is truly amazing, our lassies don't take flight,
For they put up with our habits, and we have all sorts,
Such as control of the remote and our preoccupation with sports.

For our lassies we would walk five hundred miles,
It must be because, of their feminine wiles.
Over heathery mountain and scroggy glen
We seek them out now and then.

But,
Tonight we stand, here in praise,
So join me lads, let your voices raise.
Prepare to toast, fill up your glasses,
Join me now, to our bonnie lasses.

To the Lasses.

[Gilvray]

A Toast to the Laddies

A lass without her laddie
Is a sorry sight to see.
Like a haggis without the oatmeal.
Or a golf ball without a tee.
Or a kilt without the tartan
Or which doesn't show the knee
WIthout a laddie for a husband,
the nights are long and cold.
We know this for a fact because
By Burns we have been told.
For all that and all that,
He says the man's the gold.
Wo if a lassie wants a laddie,
She need not search the whole world o'er,
But hust turn her e'e to Scotland, and
Find what she's looking for.
For the bonnie flow'r of Scotland
Is one that never wilts.
And it makes a lassie say with pride --
"Down with trousers! Up with kilts!"
Lassies -- Please raise your glasses now and
join with me in a toast --
To the Laddies!

[Gilvray]

Address To A Haggis (post Dinner)

Oh what a sleekit horrible beastie
Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie
Just as ye sit doon among yer kin
There sterts to stir an enormous wind.

The neeps and tatties and mushy peas
Stert workin like a gentle breeze
But soon the puddin wi the sauncie face
Will have ye blawin’ all ower the place.

Nae matter whit the hell ye dae
A’bodys gonnae have tae pay
Even if ye try to stifle,
It’s like a bullet oot a rifle.

Hawd yer bum tight tae the chair
Tae try and stop the leakin air
Shift yersel frae cheek tae cheek
Prae tae God it doesnae reek.

But aw yer efforts go assunder
Oot it comes like a clap a thunder
Ricochets aroon the room
Michty me, a sonic boom!

God almighty it fairly reeks;
Hope I huvnae *BLEEP* ma breeks
Tae the bog I better scurry
Aw whit the hell, its no ma worry.

A’body roon aboot me chokin,
Wan or two are nearly bokin
I’ll feel better for a while
Cannae help but raise a smile.

Wis him! I shout with accusin glower,
Alas too late, he’s just keeled ower
Ye dirty bugger they shout and stare
I dinnae feel welcome any mair.

Where ere ye go let yer wind gan free
Sounds like just the job fur me
Whit a fuss at Rabbie's perty
Ower the sake o won wee ferty.

[macwilkin]

puritans will tell you that you need to recite Burns...

Surely you mean "purists", as Burns wouldnae be caught deid wi' a Puritan.

TOdd

[Gilvray]

indeed...!

Infact - would you ever catch a puritan quoting Burns? Given the life 'he' led..... ;)

Its late, I'm XMarking all over the place and enjoying another glass of Cab Sauv... lol

[macwilkin]

indeed...!

Infact - would you ever catch a puritan quoting Burns? Given the life 'he' led..... ;)

Its late, I'm XMarking all over the place and enjoying another glass of Cab Sauv... lol

http://www.robertburns.org.uk/Assets...oly_willie.htm



T.