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Burns Style

Caithness Community Web Site

Jenny Stewart Index

Burns Suppers take place in most parts of Scotland.  Often they have renditions of poems in the style or nearly of the Bard.  Many are very comical take offs and often rude.  Some folk enjoy it others do not.  But the evenings are usual mainly a tribute to the poet and the odd bit of humour usually goes down well on these occasions.  Here are some sent in to us.  
Reply From a Haggis  

O' (your name) man, ye addressed me weel,
Which so befits a hielan' chiel,
And tho' like you I'm far frae hame,
I sure achieved my share of fame.

I never thocht I'd see the day,
I'd grace a trencher doon this way,
In the brawest club in your toon,
Tho' mony a mile frae bonny Doon.

Once fit for only rustic table,
I now enjoy a five star label,
No longer classed as peasant grub
For now I grace the (your name) table.

I'm sometimes scorned by snobbish folks,
And the butt of corny jokes,
Such folks and jokes are unco phony,
Now I'm acclaimed by Egon Ronay.

The Power who made mankind her care,
Set me above all other fare,
For Scotland's sake I'll keep this place,
An' aye be Chieftain of the pudden' race.

So to all you Braw Scots lads & lassies
That here tonight I see,
Uphold auld Scotias good fair name,
And from me - "Bon Appetite"


After The Haggis

Oh what a sleekit horrible beastie
Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie
Just as ye sit doon among yer kin
There sterts tae stir an enormous wind

The neeps and tatties and mushy peas
Stert workin like a gentle breeze
But soon the puddin wi the sauncie face
Will have ye blawin all ower the place

Nae matter whit the hell ye dae
A'bodys gonna have tae pay
Even if ye try tae stifle
Its like a bullet oot a rifle

Hawd yer bum tight tae the chair
Tae try and stop the leakin air
Shift yersel fae cheek tae cheek
Pray tae God it disnae reek.

But aww yer efforts go asunder
Oot it comes like a clap o thunder
Ricochets aroon the room
Michty me a sonic boom

God almighty it fairley reeks
Hope I huvnae shat ma breeks
Tae the bog I better scurry
Aww whit the hell, its no ma worry.

A'body roon aboot me chokin
Wan or two are nearly bokin
Ill feel better for a while
Cannae help but raise a smile

Wis him! I shout with accusin glower
Alas too late, he's just keeled ower
Ya durty buggar they shout and stare
Ah dinnae feel welcome anymair

Where e're ye go let yer wind gan' free
Sounds like just the job fur me
Whit a fuss at Rabbies perty
Oower the sake o' wan wee ferty.