We had a few cubs bring their picture drawn with the feet or mouth, some of them were really good, but the winner was a painted scene using his mouth done by Finlay which was a very very good effort. Well done Finlay. Picture will follow.
Had an interesting and fun night this week with the cubs. As it was Burns night last weekend we decided it might be fun to do something around the theme of Scotland, (just an excuse to eat shortbread really!) We decided on Haggis tasting with the Address to the Haggis included, Scottish dancing and a demonstration of traditional Scottish evening attiree . Our GSL (who is Scottish) has recently been up to Glasgow and he very kindly brought us back some Haggis samples. They have been in his freezer waiting to be used by us. The cubs didn’t seem that enthusiastic about the Haggis but I am pleased to say that they all had a taste, we had a fair few who’s response was simply yuk! but also an equal number who said it was nice, so a mixed reaction to that, I didn’t like it at all, we also had Scotch cakes with butter which went down a treat and Shortbread which dissapeared alarmingly fast. The Scottish Sword Dancing was fun, 28 cubs dancing around their makeshift swords to the blaring music of Harry Laudler – Stop yer ticklin’ Jock and Andy Stewart- Donald, where’s your troosers? and a few more, there was a prize for the one who could manage the longest without moving their swords, I’m happy to say the winner was Amelia lol,well done. It was a good laugh. Thanks to Mr Macintyre for the Haggis and Kilt demonstration.
The first three sections of the Address to the Haggis, very hard to read if your not Scottish and even harder to understand, no disrespect to the Scottish folk who may read this!
Fair far ye honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftan o’ the pudding race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch,tripe, or Thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o’a grace
As lang’s my arm
The groaning trencher ther ye fill, Your hurdles like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time I’ need,
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An’cut you up wi’ ready sleight,
Trrenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin’, rich!
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The pictures are Henry trying on the Kilt which was very heavy and hugely too big, and Jenny who tried on the informal shirt (not a dress).
