Address to a Haggis              Robert Burns

with added chorus by Todd Wong

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.

2. 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.

3. His knife see Rustic-labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

Warm-reekin rich!
Warm-reekin rich!
O what a glorious sight!
Warm-reekin rich!

 4. 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.

5. 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?

On sic a dinner?
On sic a dinner?
Who Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view 
On sic a dinner?

6. 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!

7. 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.

Like taps o' thrissle. 
Like taps o' thrissle. 
He'll mak it whissle; 
Like taps o' thrissle. 

8. 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!

Gie her a Haggis!
Gie her a Haggis!             
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware,        
Gie her a Haggis!