http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/acxnmaVTlZA?version=3&hl=nl_NL
Kan niet missen natuurlijk op mijn weblog. Het is Burns Supper dit weekeinde. Een gedenkdag voor de Schotse bard. Hier een van zijn bekendste nummers, Auld Lang Syne. Mij vind je vanavond in Wassenaar: haggis en whisky.
O ja, en ik spreek de ode aan de haggis uit:
Fair full your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain of the pudding 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, reeking, rich!
Then horn for horn, the stretch and strive:
Deil take the hindmost, on they drive,
Till all their well swollen kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, most like to rive,
‘Bethankit!’ hums.
Is there that over his French ragout,
Or olio that would staw a sow,
Or fricassee would make her spew
With perfect scunner,
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 will make it whistle;
And legs, and arms, and heads will crop
Like tops of thistle.
You powers, who make mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill of fare,
Auld Scotland want no watery ware,
That splashes in small wooden dishes;
But if you wish her grateful prayer,
Give her a Haggis!
Ik heb geen kilt, dus het zal het er ook niet zo spannend aan toegaan als in onderstaand filmpje
http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/C8l2m3_2Xjg?version=3&hl=nl_NL
Puffinnest 