Burns Birthday Jan 25th he was born in Scotland , he was a historian of the day , he wrote about real life in the language of the day which was very different from the english we speak today, it is a window and a glance in to the life they loved back then ! Info from Wikipedia
Robert Burns (25 January 1759 – 21 July 1796), also known familiarly as Rabbie Burns, the National Bard, Bard of Ayrshire and the Ploughman Poetand various other names and epithets,[nb 1] was a Scottish poet and lyricist. He is widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland and is celebrated worldwide. He is the best known of the poets who have written in the Scots language, although much of his writing is in English and a light Scots dialect, accessible to an audience beyond Scotland. He also wrote in standard English, and in these writings his political or civil commentary is often at its bluntest.
He is regarded as a pioneer of the Romantic movement, and after his death he became a great source of inspiration to the founders of both liberalism and socialism, and a cultural icon in Scotland and among the Scottish diaspora around the world. Celebration of his life and work became almost a national charismatic cult during the 19th and 20th centuries, and his influence has long been strong on Scottish literature. In 2009 he was chosen as the greatest Scot by the Scottish public in a vote run by Scottish television channel STV.
As well as making original compositions, Burns also collected folk songs from across Scotland, often revising or adapting them. His poem (and song) “Auld Lang Syne” is often sung at Hogmanay (the last day of the year), and “Scots Wha Hae” served for a long time as an unofficial national anthem of the country. Other poems and songs of Burns that remain well known across the world today include “A Red, Red Rose“, “A Man’s a Man for A’ That“, “To a Louse“, “To a Mouse“, “The Battle of Sherramuir“, “Tam o’ Shanter” and “Ae Fond Kiss“.
On Sat January 23rd David and I had our Burn’s Supper ! A Bards Pie we created this last year, it is Haggis and lamb cooked slowly with onions and a wee splash of Mint Sauce and hp sauce salt and pepper, We cooked potatoes and turnips mashed them and put them on the top of the haggis and lamb, kinda lie a shepards pie only a , ”Bards Pie” Robbie Burns was a Bard a Poet
This is our deconstructed version of a Burns Supper The bread I saw Jamie Oliver male it was a Basic Bread I made a Cob and rolled some our smothered it with Haggis and Lamb mix, rolled it like a swiss roll and sliced it in to 2 “ slices placed it in a pie tin and baked Oh my good need this bread was amazing. you can fill with your fave sandwich and bake I am going to try cheese and onion, or tomato and bacon ohh tuna and cheese!! it is easy and delicious ! The first one I did were Antojitos and boy it was tasty!!
Address to a Haggis by Robbie Burns
Burns Night Pipers Available in all areas of the UK
Address to a Haggis by Robbie Burns
To download right click and select ‘save link as’
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;
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!
A few of my fave things Love Y’all
Intuitive Chef 
