1 Gathering – everyone get’s together, the host decides who will do the readings and invites the guests to be seated at the table.
2 Meal – after everyone is seated the host offers the The Selkirk Grave (or opening grace).
The Selkirk Grace
Some hae meat and canna eat
And some would eat that want it
But we hae meat, and we can eat
Sae let the Lord be thankit.
The soup is served.
The parade of the haggis – this is the highlight of the evening. There is a piper closely followed by the chef or guest of honour carries in the haggis and places it in front of the host on the high table.
Address to the haggis – the host or a person doing the reading recites the poem ode to a haggis. Then a tot of whisky is given to the piper, chef and the reader. The reader raises a knife (or dagger) and stabs open the haggis when he reaches the line ‘an cut you up wi’ ready site.
Ode To A Haggis by Robert Burns
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 haggis and it’s accompaniments are served along with wine, beer or more traditionally whisky. Some people prefer to pour their whisky over their haggis.
The Toasts
Loyal Toast
The Tartans
The Twa Lands
Immortal memory address – The host or a special speaker recites the immortal memory address, which is a short speech about Robert Burns. These can be jovial to serious or a mixture of both. It always ends with everyone in the room standing up with raised glasses and make a toast to Robert Burns, the Bard of Ayr.
Toast to the lassies – this is a jovial toast to the lassies and their faults. It originated from the first speech of thanking the women who cooked the meal to celebrating those who shared Robert Burns life. A good speech is never derisory, but full of fun.
Reply from the lassies – this is the time that the females get their own back on the males and their faults, this too is never derisory but full of fun.
The Star Of Robert Burns
Closing remarks from the host. Including thanks to the chef, piper and speakers.
The end – traditionally it is a song penned by Robert Burns called Auld Lang Syne.
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;
The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
‘Bethankit’ hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad 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 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 make 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!
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