Haggis

Civilization
Haggis
Chieftains
Trencher
Estómago
Pan Cita
Robert Burns

Rom.8:37
"Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us."

Gen.6:4
"There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown."

The Virgin and Child ('The Bridgewater Madonna'). About 1507. Raphael. Edinburgh, National Gallery of Scotland 

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 worthy o' a grace
As lang's my arm."~~~Robert Burns

A Traditional Haggis with Neeps and Tatties & a Wee Dram!

Here in Donegal, with our historic association with Scotland and Scottish traditions, we have  long been enjoying the lightly spiced and peppery flavours of this famous dish. Haggis is traditionally eaten on "Burns Night" which falls on the 25th January and is the birthday of the famous Scottish poet, Robert Burns.

"Special needs...engender special deities to provide for them"~~~Edward Conze

"He endows the world with poetic beauty."~~~Walter Sutton

The Burns Night address to the haggis - Friends: The One with the Coalition Burns

The most famous object in the Mildenhall treasure is the large, highly decorated circular platter, usually known as the Great Dish, or as the Neptune or Oceanus Dish. Bacchic imagery has a long history in Greek and Roman art, and this example, on a magnificent silver vessel measuring 60.5 centimetres in diameter and weighing 8,256 g, is one of the finest to survive from the late Roman period. The decoration, worked in low relief and engraved lines on the front surface of the silver, alludes to the worship and mythology of Bacchus, on land and in the sea. The staring face in the centre is Oceanus, his beard formed of seaweeds fronds and with dolphins in is hair. The inner circle, bordered by scallop shells, consists of sea nymphs riding mythological marine creatures, a seahorse, a trion, a sea-stag, and a ketos, a dragon-like sea monster. The wider outer frieze features Bacchus himself, holding a bunch of grapes and a thyrsus (a staff-tipped with a pine-cone) and resting a foot on his panther, presiding over a celebration of music, dancing and drinking in his honor. The participants include the hero Hercules, overcome by wine, the goat-legged god Pan, and sundry satyrs and Maenads (female devotees). From West Row, Mildenhall, Suffolk, UK. 4th century CE. (The British Museum, London)

Tudor trencher

Chess: "Civilization" "Haggis" "Chieftains" "Pan Cita" "Estómago" "Robbie Burns" "Trencher"

Address to a Haggis

This poem was written by Burns to celebrate his appreciation of the Haggis. As a result Burns and Haggis have been forever linked.

This particular poem is always the first item on the programme of Burns' suppers. The haggis is generally carried in on a silver salver at the start of the proceedings.

As it is brought to the table a piper plays a suitable, rousing accompaniment.

One of the invited artistes then recites the poem before the theatrical cutting of the haggis with the ceremonial knife.

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 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!

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;
The 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 scunner,
Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view
On sic a 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 make 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

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 groaning trencher 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 the dews distill
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour wipe,
And cut you up with ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like any ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm steaming, rich!

Then spoon for spoon, the stretch and strive:
Devil take the hindmost, on they drive,
Till all their well swollen bellies by-and-by
Are bent like drums;
Then old head of the table, most like to burst, 
'The grace!' hums.

Is there that over his French ragout,
Or olio that would sicken a sow,
Or fricassee would make her vomit
With perfect disgust,
Looks down with sneering, scornful view
On such a dinner?

Poor devil! see him over his trash,
As feeble as a withered rush,
His thin legs a good whip-lash,
His fist a nut;
Through bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit.

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his ample fist a blade,
He'll make it whistle;
And legs, and arms, and heads will cut off
Like the heads of thistles.

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!