Fair and full is your honest jolly face
Great chieftain of the sausage race!
Above them all you take your place,
Stomach, tripe or intestines:
Well are you worthy of a grace
As long as my arm.
You powers, who make mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill of fare,
Old Scotland wants no watery stuff
That splashes in small wooden dishes;
But if you wish her grateful prayer,
Give her a Haggis!
Doesn’t it make you want to pump your fist into the air and shout, “F— yeah, haggis!” I guess poetry could be considered the food Instagram of the Olden Days. Now I want everyone to write a poem about what they had for dinner last night. I’ll start.
Italian wedding soup
I was out of tomato paste
I used ketchup instead
It didn’t change the taste
Pureed for the kids
Chunky for the grownups
Leftovers in my fridge