A year ago, John Knox wrote an article on this site advocating a new kind of politics by minority government after the General Election. He now comes to our attention again having delivered a beautifully crafted General Election themed Address to the Haggis at the Edinburgh South Burns Supper on Friday night.

He’s given us his permission to publish it in full. Some of you may struggle with the exact language, but I’m sure you will pick up the gist. Enjoy.

Fair fa’ your honest sonsie face

Great chieften o’ the puddin’ race

Aboon them a’ ye take your place

Painch, tripe or thairm

Well are ye worthy o’ a grace

As lang’s my arm.

 

The groaning trencher there ye fill

Your hurdie’s like a distant hill

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o’ need

While through your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

 

His knife see rustic Labour dight

And cut thee up wi’ ready sleight

Trenching your gushing entrails bright

Like ony ditch:

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm, reekin’ rich.

 

Which gies me a taste for this reflection

Food for thought on this general election

How mince and meal are served as sweet confection

Like rolling stones for our distraction.

Those mealy mouthed pledges are just perfection !

But rolling stones can’t gie no…… satisfaction.

 

As drouthy neibours neibours meet

There’s talk o’ coalition in every street

An’ the major parties are in retreat.

UKIP may even tak the Tory whip.

The SNP are on mission creep

Boarding Labour’s battle-ship.

 

Nae man can thether time nor tide

Wi’ haggis power we maun ride

An’ through the polls and campaign glide

Wi’ Lib Dem resignation

Watchin’ our fortunes fall and slide

Saying: “What a parcel o’ rogues in a nation !”

 

But we’ll no see oursels as eithers see us

Frae our image o’ wee Tories free us

May the stink of austerity leave us

And either foolish notions,

An’ may our past no longer grieve us

An’ no vows melt like ice in Arctic oceans.

 

The best laid schemes gang aft agley

But Michael Moore says “Let’s do or die,

Frae the Borders to Charlie’s Skye

Frae Crockart’s West to Sir Bob’s Kincardine.”

And from Salmond’s Gordon hear the battle cry

“Put his feet to the fire,” says Christine Jardine.

 

But Scots wha’ hae wi’ Wallace bled

And now by Willie Rennie led

We need to regain our lost street cred

An’ mak oursels mair pleasing.

We need tae turn mair green and red

Hae mair o’ Danny’s quantitative easing.

 

A man’s a man for a’ that

Nae a louse, nor mouse, nor fat-cat.

O I ken Lord Thurso’s an aristocrat

But there’ aye Comrade Alistair Carmichael.

Let’s hope he’s nae the only Liberal Democrat

Gaun tae Westminster on a unicycle.

 

Ye powers wha’ mak mankind your care

An’ dish them oot Jo’s bill o’ fare

Auld Scotland wants nae skinkin’ ware

That japs in luggies

But if ye wish her grateful prayer

Gie her a haggis !

 

* Newshound in training. I'm sweet and full of mischief, just like my stories.