A haggis an a thistle-shank, began a disputation,
On fa'd be best ambassador, tae serve the Scottish nation
The haggis wisna blate tae spik —
(the belly o a sheep, a win' — bag cornucopia, sets weel, yell min', wi,,neep)

"I am a cosmopolitan; a culinery pearl
Far wad Burns, withooten me? I sud be made an Earl!"

The thistle groaned, bit held its wheesht,
An gied its lugs a claw;
    A haggis, fin it sterts tae spik
Is naethin bit a blaw!
Yon chieftain o the pudden race,
Wis prood, in pachydermatous
He'd graced the plate, o heids o state
Frae Brighton tae the Bosporus ....
"It's neither drams, nur jeelie-jams,
Nur thistles, ower the watter
That makks the best ambassador.
It's haggis on a platter!"

"I wyte yer richt, " the thistle cried ... (aside, "haud on the batter")

As ay the pudden puffed an blawed, its bag grew wondrous rare
Aweel awot, aside a Scot, it sud hae taen mair care
A thistle, an a bag o win, are an onchancy pair ...
There wis a puff, an syne, a guff, o haggis, in the air

The pudden race, sud ken its place —
Or else, tak tent tae shift.
A bigsie pudden, efter as
Is naethin bit a rift!