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The Haggis Song
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Scotland, when the whisky flows
folk celtic sca
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Folk Music for the Current Middle Ages, SCA Bards
Ken is a singer/songwriter and has been performing his brand of pop-folk for about 15 years. He has released three CDs with Raven Boy Music, and is scheduled to release the long-awaited new "Human History" in March of 2008. The CD will consist mainly of songs that view famous historical (usually medieval or older) events from the point of view of a single character who was there. The result is a series of songs that make make you think, laugh, cry while enjoying the excellent folk-pop music that brings the songs to life.
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic Folk
Charts
Peak #68
Peak in subgenre #10
Author
Ken and Lisa Theriot
Rights
Raven Boy Music, ASCAP
Uploaded
June 26, 2008
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.7 MB • 128 kbps • 2:53
Story behind the song
“neeps” are parsnips, “swedes” are rutabagas, and “winkles” are periwinkles, a type of shellfish; “athol brose” is a drink made with whisky and oats. And no, this isn’t really what haggis is; someone once described haggis to me as, “Basically, you take a sheep and feed it nose-first into a Cuisinart…” You know the saying, “You are what you eat”? Perhaps this explains a lot about Scotsmen.
Lyrics
The haggis is as fair a beast As e'er was served to diner And if you're minded for a feast Ye canna ask for finer But if ye would on haggis dine And vegetables to match him Tis best ye hearken untae me And learn the way to catch him Chorus: Oh! the neeps, and oh! the swedes And oh! the winkles fine Come raise yer horn of athol brose On haggis let us dine! The haggis roams the highland hills That stretch from loch to loch And he's as fast a quarry then As hunter ever socht He'll run the day and all the nicht He'll match yer hounds for speed Ye canna catch him wi' yer feet Ye maun gang use yer heed! CH The haggis, see, he does nae turn He runs the lee-long day Around and round the hill he gaes But always the same way Sae frae the hour he leaves his dam On rocky slope tae bide His legs grow short anear the scree And lang the doonhill side! CH Sae once ye spy the tasty beast As shy as any doe Just set yer dogs untae his heed And wait yersel' below For when he turns yer hounds tae flee His legs won't reach the ground He'll tumble doon untae yer arms And tae yer pot he's bound! CH words by Lisa Theriot music by Ken Theriot ©2001 Raven Boy Music, ASCAP
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