On this auspicious day of days what better way to celebrate than to recall Burns’ great work, the Address to a Haggis :

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.

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!

Or for those you English cunts, a translation to the King’s English…

I say old chap
You’re a jolly nice pudding
Just look at all these nice ingredients
Bits of stomach lung and Christ knows what
What can I say that’s worthy
Of crap like this

Why in God’s holy name
Would anyone serve up such offal fare
Scots say they want no sloppy watery stuff
And yet they all eat porridge
So if the wife says slip her one
Slap her with a haggis!

Translated from the heathen tongue by the honorable Dioclese