Big Whisky Night.

It’s Burns night, the noo, and tonight’s smoky-drinky is likely to reach levels that would make a Puritan explode in indignation.

So I’m awa’ tae the swallae. I leave you with the words of a wise man…


6 thoughts on “Big Whisky Night.

  1. Ode To A Haggis

    Robert Burns is Scotland’s best-loved bard and Burns Suppers have been held in his honor for over 200 years. Among many Scots, his best know poems are Auld Lang Syne and Ode To A Haggis.
    Robert Burns was born January 25, 1759, in Alloway, Ayrshire, Scotland, to William Burnes, a poor tenant farmer, and Agnes Broun. Robert Burns was the eldest of seven children. He spent his youth working his father’s farm, but in spite of his poverty he was extremely well read – at the insistence of his father, who employed (1772) a tutor, John Murdoch, for Robert and younger brother Gilbert. At 15 Robert was the principal worker on the farm and this prompted him to start writing in an attempt to find a suitable outlet for his circumstances.” It was at this early age that Burns penned his first verse, “My Handsome Nell”, which was an ode to the other subjects that dominated his life, namely scotch and women.
    He moved around the country, eventually arriving in Edinburgh (1786), where he mingled in the illustrious circles of the artists and writers who were delighted at the “Ploughman Poet.” In a matter of weeks he was transformed from local hero to a national celebrity, fussed over by the Edinburgh literati of the day, and Jean Armour’s father allowed her to marry him (1788), now that he was no longer a lowly wordsmith.
    Robert Burns died July 21, 1796 at the age of 37. His death occurred on the same day his wife, Jean, gave birth to his last son, Maxwell.
    Rabbie Burns, we salute you!

    Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
    Great Chieftan o’ the Puddin-race!
    Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
    Painch, tripe, or thairm:
    Weel are ye wordy of a grace
    As lang’s my arm
    The groaning trencher there ye fill,
    Your hurdies like a distant hill,
    You 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-reeking, 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;
    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 owre his trash,
    As feckless as a wither’d rash
    His spindle-shank a guid whip-lash,
    His nieve a nit;
    Thro’ bluidy 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,
    An’ dish them out their bill o’fare,
    Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
    That jaups in luggies;
    But, if ye wish her gratefu’ pray’r,
    Gie her a Haggis!

    Many stories have developed about the Haggis, a humble North European creature, related to the rabbit and the hare.

    Many people think that is at home in Scotland.

    However, MOST North European lands have, or have had a similar animal.

    Although it is now mostly restricted to the Highlands of Scotland, it was once wide spread.


    A haggis is an animal, closely related to the rabbit and hare.

    They are, or CAN be the size of a large beagle, or the size of a large rabbit/hare.

    For century’s, they were hunted nearly out of existence.

    Although traces of them still do exist. For example at Logger-heads in Wales. Where an ancient haggis warren, complete with “run” can still be seen today.

    (Pictures are only available for money….typical Welsh!)

    The spiral form comes from the fact, that due to a genetically in built survival instinct, the Haggis developed short legs on the left side of the body, to those on the right.

    This meant/means, they run in spirals, up, or down the hill/mountain where they have built their warren. (Warren, whilst they are, as previously described, related to Rabbits/hares.)

    Unfortunately, for the haggis, but happily for the hunter, this makes them easy to catch. (But BEWARE! They may LOOK like a “fluffy bunny”, but the have the temperament of a hunting dog!)

    A simple net across the path way, and a row of beaters to chase the animals downhill, makes them easy prey.


  2. No Burns night supper for us tonight. Forget to buy haggis and drank the last of the Old Pultney last weekend. Plus that which is under my kilt is a little bit worn. But as I had a case of a rather nice red arrive I am now on my second bottle. Wish I had bought a haggis and more malt though.


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