nicht angemeldet
Hi,
assumption 4 is made up: Animal is a kidnapped Haggis
Haggis? Das schottische Nationalgericht? Schafsinnereien in Schafsdarm?
Aye, but a haggis is something different: It's a very shy animal only very few humans have seen so far. It lives in the Highlands and looks quite peculiar: It has legs of different length on the left and right hand side of it's body as to make it easier to run along the hills. And now guess how you catch a Haggis, should you be lucky enough to find one...
Ich gestehe: ich hab mal ein vegetarisches Haggis gegessen, zubereitet von einem befreundeten Schotten. Hat lecker geschmeckt.
Vegetarian Haggis?
Und das Campen in den Highlands habe ich auch überlebt!
Despite the midges??
And finally:
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
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 slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn they stretch 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,
_Bethankit_ hums.
Is there that owre his French _ragout_
Or _olio_ that wad stow a sow,
Or _fricasee_ was 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 mak it whissle;
An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle.
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!
Gruss,
Armin