Monday, 21 January 2013

A Haggis isn't just for Burns Night


In celebration of Burns Night on 25th January, I prepared a few Haggis MGonks as part of my Frugaldom's 'frugal entrepreneur' project. I have highlighted the fnal lines of this rather famous poem by Robert Burns, where he clearly states that the way to a girl's heart is through a haggis and what better way to put a smile on a loved one's face than to present them with the cutest, most frugal, handmade Haggis they'll probably ever see?
Haggis is a traditionally frugal dish, one that uses up plenty of what others may overlook and all bulked out with oats to form a tasty meal. There's nowt beats it, especially with a heap o' mashed neaps and tatties - seasonal produce that should have come from the garden. Sadly, this year, we have no turnips and don't even have a haggis for Burns night, as I've had no way of getting to a shop that sells them. Even an Aldi haggis would do - must put out the call now to see if anyone can beag me a couple before they all fly off the shelves!


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

(Limited edition Haggis McGonk is available to buy for £5 plus P&P. If there are any still for sale, they should be listed in the Frugal Shop or in the McGonks auction at )


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