Tuesday, 25 January 2011

Address to a Haggis

Robert Burns

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 wordy of 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;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad stow a sow,
Or fricasee was 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,
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!

Sunday, 23 January 2011

Loch Lomond pictures across water

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Wednesday, 19 January 2011

In Waiting


Light shimmers through a broken window
Shards sparkle on the the floor below
Jagged points of harsh light reflected
A mirror to the day.

My life may be on standby
Awaiting things that may
Its possible it is coming
A better way to see the day

A dark place there will always be
A place to cower and shiver
The light will displace the dark
Its brightness chasing dark eddies away

For now there is ghosting
But not of witching hour kind
My world will be exorcised
When corneal has grafted hard.

Saturday, 8 January 2011

Ducks on ice

Taken today, on my little excursion to Balloch, Loch Lomond was frozen still and I snapped these two love ducks :-)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad