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 o’ a grace
As lang’s my arm.

One month and eight meals of haggis later, and I think I am officially done eating the Scottish national dish...at least until the next Faith and Freedom Scotland Tour. But in honor of our host country we determined to go out in true Scottish style with a traditional Robert Burns “Address to the Haggis,” performed by our own Faith and Freedom Tour guide, and Scotland’s native son, Colin Gunn.

Scotland’s most beloved poet, Robert Burns, forever sealed haggis as the national dish of Scotland when he penned his famous “Address to the Haggis,” an address which has developed into a celebration ritual for Scots for close to two centuries now. Though the motivation behind the poem is not known for certain, many believe that its tone, timing, and distinctively anti-French sentiments point to an effort by Burns to distinguish his perception of the foppery of the French (who were going through their bloody Revolution), on the one hand, with the manliness of the Scots (on the other). More importantly, Burns was presenting haggis (in a lighthearted way) as uniquely Scottish, a symbol of a nation with a history of hearty and courageous men.

And everyone had to eat some haggis—including my own beloved bride, and reluctant haggis eater—Beall.

For those of you who may have missed my blog post on haggis, here is a review of the recipe: “Take the liver, lungs & heart of a sheep and boil them. Mince the meats and mix with chopped onions, toasted oatmeal, salt, pepper, and spices. Take one properly cleaned sheep’s stomach. Stuff the cleaned stomach with the prepared contents. Sew up the stomach (leaving enough room for expansion to avoid a large messy explosion) and boil. Serve and eat.”

Triumph Perseverance Bradrick gets his introduction into Scottish manhood with a healthy bite of haggis.

Below is a portion of Burns’s “Address to a Haggis” translated into modern English.

Is there that over his French Ragout
Or olio that would sicken a pig
Or fricassee would make her vomit
With perfect disgust
Looks down with a sneering scornful opinion
On such a dinner

Poor devil, see him over his trash
As week as a withered rush (reed)
His spindle-shank a good whiplash
His clenched fist.the size of a nut.
Through a bloody flood and battle field to dash
Oh how unfit

But take note of the strong haggis fed Scot
The trembling earth resounds his tread

Clasped in his large fist a blade
He’ll make it whistle
And legs and arms and heads he will cut off
Like the tops of thistles

You powers who make mankind your care
And dish them out their meals
Old Scotland wants no watery food
That splashes in dishes
But if you wish her grateful prayer
Give her a haggis!