As part of a competition run by Tesco, we have been writing our own versions of this Burns classic in P45. Here are 2 great versions of the poem written by Abbie and Harry.
The Slaughter of the Haggis
The gleaming feast,
Sliding into a watering mouth,
Which tenderly is swallowed down,
With pleasure and love.
A courageous taste,
Which melts into charging bombs,
That sings luxuriously,
Like a bagpipe.
Surrounded by armed neeps and tatties,
But the haggis defeats them,
Because he is crowned the most scrumptious of them all,
The king of gleaming feast.
By Harry Rennell
Haggis Running Late
Ye Haggis running up and doon,
I cannae wait to attack ye wi’ me spoon,
I’m hunting you, so don’t be late,
My bonnie lass just cannae wait.
Tonight the yowfing dug winnae feast,
We’ll slobber you all up my beast,
My sgian dubh will briefly slice,
Your puddins gushing out with spice.
By Abbie Morris
