On top of this, many of us at the table are bi/multilingual interpreters and so we could have had a small international conference if we so choose. I mean- to understand Robert Burns's poetry you might need an interpreter- BUT I am not sure out of all of us we would be the most qualified, unfortunately.
Our Burn's night wasn't as formal as some others that you could go to. I wish there was a little bit more poetry and such to be shared. But we did begin with a piper and a toast of the haggis.
Address to the Haggis
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm
Weel are ye wordy o'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 sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight,
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,
Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad make 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 wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
His nieve a nit; Thro' bloody 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 whistle;
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!
So after we addressed the Haggis. Which.. let me pause for a moment. The man who was toasting it forgot some of these words and giggled his way through it. I don't know if he will be hired back. Anyway, after the haggis we were brought our meal. Here is the menu.
The food was pretty good. It wasn't fantastic but it was a nice first Burns Night meal. I know I was totally Glutened as I just kind of went with whatever they fed me. So we will see on the Monday run how bad off I am. Fingers crossed its not terrible.
See the orange stuff? I couldn't figure out what it was. Yes, I am a cook but its not a vegetable I cook often because its one that I am allergic to! Not to eat but to touch. Anyway its a rutabaga. At least in America. I asked Mr. Tyke what the stuff was and he said it was, "Swede"- I had never heard of that before so I asked Sara and she was the one who reminded me of it being a Rutabaga. Here is then how the conversation went something like this:
Mr. Tyke: It is the English language and you guys in America have screwed it all up.
Sara: We can have this conversation if you want, I am a linguist. And this is a Rutabaga.
Mr. Tyke: Its a swede.
Sara: And what do you call people from Sweden?
Mr. Tyke: Well Rudabagish, of course.
Hahaha- Yes, that was a highlight. The linguist will get him next time I am sure of it.
So after our dinner the band started and so did the dancing. You all know that I am not much of a dancer but I do a great job of watching and it was nice to see everyone dance around.