Haggis is a savory pudding containing sheep’s pluck (heart, liver and lungs); minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally encased in the animal’s stomach and simmered for approximately three hours. (Wikipedia) On a recent trip to Scotland, I discovered that locals often make up stories about an animal called a haggis, to fool outsiders into tasting the dish. This, of course, inspired the poem.
There is a beast in Scotland
That roams the hills, you see
A creature strange to be sure
On the cliffs above the sea.
Its fur is sparse and mangy
Its eyes are quick and keen
And its legs are quite amazing
The strangest you’ve ever seen.
Always on the mountainside
And needing to run around
Nature has assisted
Creating a curious hound.
The uphill legs are shorter
To keep the beast upright
As it laps the Scottish highlands
It is a wondrous sight.
For on the level it cannot walk
Without an obvious tilt
Always off kilter to be sure
For the flat, it was not built.
So the hunters chase it from the slopes
There it can outrun the best
And force it down to the moor
Where they can kill their quest.
No matter for the dinner plate
For the meat is tasty fine
The legs, they make no difference
When once you sit to dine.