Hendrik Jan Thomassen not only sent me the tail of Haggis hunting but also a nice ancient poem as an ode to Haggis.
Here it is:
The haggis season has begun
and all over Scotland every gun
Is taken down with loving care
Though some prefer the haggis snare
The haggis are a wiley lot
That’s why they are so seldom shot
Then hidden in the highland heather
Great hairy Clansmen crouch together
And having laid the haggis bait,
a life-like haggis on a plate,
One cries out loudly:’There’s the noo'
Which means the haggis are in view
It’s flying upside down and low
The guns all fore but they’re too slow
For thought it’s rather old and fat
They’re awful hard to hit like that
And as it flies off into the mist
Great hairy clansmen shake their fists
Scream their curseds to the crags
Stamp on empty haggis bags
And so the haggis get away
to live until next Christmas day
'`Come back haggis'’
And that’s the reason it is so rare
This strange traditional Scottish fare
We’re that haggis hi hooray
It’s hog’manay not Christmas day
