Goldilocks with the three bears, at supper instead of breakfast, addressing the Haggis;
“Wee chieftain o the pudden race, hunted by the fierce o face, slaverin an snortin an fu o fang nae matter that yiv done nae wrang, yin swipe o muckle paw an claw an yer heid’s liftit, dottin doun the glen awa, marked tae jine yir glass ee’d brithers, abune, on the wa.”
jine, jyne: join.
Little chieftain of the pudding race, hunted by the fierce of face, salivating and snorting and full of fangs, it does not matter that you’ve done no wrong, one swipe of a gigantic paw and claw and your head is separated from your shoulders, bouncing down the narrow steep sided valley away, destined to join the glass eyed others of your kind, above, on the trophy wall.
The above is a pitiful travesty of the original Burn’s grace ‘address to the Haggis’ which is always recited at a Burns supper. The first verse of which is:
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 worthy o’ a grace
As lang’s my arm.
My Science pal says it’s a scientific “alternative fact” that the Haggis trophies on the wall are proven descendants from ice age Scottish Woolly Mammoths.
He ‘feels’ it in his DNA because of how they taste with tatties and neeps.