robert burns poetRabbie Burns wrote his ‘Address to a Haggis’ to celebrate his appreciation of the Haggis. Each year on or around the 25th January a celebration takes place in the form of a Burns Supper to commemorate his birthday and his works. Burns Suppers can be a formal event with full evening dress for men and the ladies, or it can just be a menu selection in an hotel or restaurant offering traditional fare for the event. Here are some venues where you can enjoy a Burns Night Supper or Special Menu celebrating Burns.

A Formal Burns Supper order of the Evening

A formal Burns Supper is quite a structured evening and a most entertaining night with lots of music and speeches and may be followed with some Ceilidh Dancing. Below is a summary of what to expect if you are fortunate enough to be attending such and event:

The order of events

  • Piping in the guests
  • The Host’s Welcome Speech
  • Saying of The Selkirk Grace (Full Version Below)
  • Soup Course serving a traditional Scottish soup
  • The Piping of The Haggis which arrives carried by the cook and accompanied by a piper (everybody stands)
  • Saying of the “Address to The Haggis”, the poem written by Burns (Full Version Below)
  • The Main Course of Haggis, Neeps (turnips) and Tatties (potatoes)
  • Various toasts and speeches
  • The closing which finishes with the singing of “Auld Lang Syne” (everybody stands)

Rabbie Burns wrote his ‘Address to a Haggis’ to celebrate his appreciation of the Haggis. Rabbie Burns and the Haggis are therefore forever linked and celebrated around the world on or around January 25th. The Address is an essential part of any Burns Supper and is always the main event of the night.

Before the meal starts grace is said in the form of “The Selkirk Grace” and goes as follows:

The Selkirk Grace

Some hae meat an canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
And sae let the Lord be thankit.

The Haggis gets proudly carried in on a silver platter during the meal accompanied by a piper in full Scottish regalia who plays a suitable and rousing tune on the bagpipes.

The ‘Address to a Haggis‘ poem is then recited, once finished the haggis is then theatrically cut open with a ceremonial knife. No Burns night would be complete without copious amounts of Scotch Whisky.

Below is the original ‘Address to a Haggis’ along with a translation from the old Scots.

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

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!

 

Thanks to the Alexandria Burns Association who gave us the text for the Address to the Haggis.