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TO A HAGGIS.1
FAIR fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Painch, tripe, or thairm; small guts Weel are ye wordy of a grace worthy As lang's my arm.
His knife see rustic labour dight,
And then, oh what a glorious sight,
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
While through your pores the dews distil
1 The haggis is a dish peculiar to Scotland, though supposed to be of French extraction. It is composed of minced offal of mutton, mixed with oatmeal and suet, and boiled in a sheep's stomach. When made in Elspa's way, with (6 o' spice" (see the Gentle Shepherd ), it is an agreeable, albeit a somewhat heavy dish, always providing that no horror be felt at the idea of its preparation.
Then horn for horn they stretch and strive,
by and by
Are bent like drums;
Then auld guidman, maist like to rive, burst "Bethankit!" hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
Through bloody flood or field to dash,
But mark the rustic, haggis-fed,
He'll mak it whissle;
And legs, and arms, and heads will sned, shear Like taps o' thrissle.
Ye Powers wha mak mankind your care,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
splashes in bowls
EXTEMPORE IN THE COURT OF SESSION.
Two well-drawn sketches of the leading barristers of that day—namely, the Dean of Faculty, Harry Erskine, and the Lord Advocate, Mr. Ilay Campbell (subsequently Lord President).
HE clenched his pamphlets in his fist,
Collected Harry stood a wee,
And eyed the gathering storm, man;
Like wind-driven hail, it did assail,
PROLOGUE SPOKEN BY MR. WOODS ON HIS BENEFIT-NIGHT,
Monday, 16th April, 1787.
Amongst the men whom Burns had met and liked at the Canongate Kilwinning Lodge, was Joseph Woods, a respectable member of the Edinburgh corps dramatique, and the more likely to be endeared to the Ayrshire poet, that he had been an intimate friend of poor Fergusson.
WHEN by a generous Public's kind acclaim,
But here an ancient nation famed afar,
Poor is the task to please a barbarous throng,
It needs no Siddons' powers in Southern's
For genius, learning high, as great in war
Here holds her search by heaven-taught Reason's beam;
Here History paints with elegance and force
Here Douglas forms wild Shakspeare into plan,
Oh thou dread Power! whose empire-giving. hand
1 The Man of Feeling, written by Mr. Mackenzie.