We have a new moderator on board, I welcome The Scotsman in our team.
Thank you very much for your time and efforts to keep the forum a friendly place!
Thank you very much for your time and efforts to keep the forum a friendly place!
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Welcome to a new moderator: The Scotsman
- Thread starter Walter
- Start date
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GenSeneca
Well-Known Member
CONGRATS SCOTTY! 
Finally, we have a Moderator in our Social Group!
Finally, we have a Moderator in our Social Group!
Libsmasher
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2008
- Messages
- 3,151
Beam me up Scotty!
Pandora
Well-Known Member
What a good pick. he is such a nice guy. I have only been here long enough to see two picks and both were great!
to bad you guys were not picking our candidates
to bad you guys were not picking our candidates
Mr.Dysfunctional
Well-Known Member
Great to see new faces of bigger government popping up in even these facets of our culture...
LOL j/k GRAZTIE Scotty !!! mods make the world a better place
LOL j/k GRAZTIE Scotty !!! mods make the world a better place
The Scotsman
Well-Known Member
....thanks for the kind thoughts guys!!
Shadow
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Aug 12, 2008
- Messages
- 302
Good choice and congrats to the Scotsman.
( Have always had a thing about men in kilts. Luv Haggis munching.......particularly on Robbie Burns day. Of course, THE Haggis hunt is a solid tradition that does not always bode well for the little critters. Cheers
( Have always had a thing about men in kilts.
Luv Haggis munching.......particularly on Robbie Burns day. Of course, THE Haggis hunt is a solid tradition that does not always bode well for the little critters. Cheers
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Shadow
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Aug 12, 2008
- Messages
- 302
An Ode to the Haggis. ( and th' Scotsman.)
Ode 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 of a grace worthy
As lang's my arm.
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.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn, they strech 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,
'Bethanket!' hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?
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!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll make it whissle;
An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle. tops/thistle
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!
To The Haggis
Ode 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 of a grace worthy
As lang's my arm.
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.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn, they strech 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,
'Bethanket!' hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?
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!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll make it whissle;
An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle. tops/thistle
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!
To The Haggis
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