The Groaning Trencher
Sometimes, falls the Burns Night on the number two New Moon,
That will open the cacoon of a brand New Year –
So the neeps and cock-a-leekie get to share the serving spoon
As the beansprouts and the riceballs soon appear.
From the docks of old Kowloon to the mists of Brigadoon,
So it all goes in the haggis, and the bamboo pipes the tune –
As we all sup down together, from New Scotland Yard to Scone,
In a typhoon of lampoons and tartan cheer.
Now maybe I am nothing but a Sassenach poltroon,
From the billabongs of Perth, and through the snows of Saskatoon –
But a shortbread in my green tea on a global afternoon,
And the paddy-fields of glens are very near.
Can I just say what a wonderfully weird experience it is to hear someone read Address to the Haggis in an unapologetically RP accent ?
Rhyming Couplets 