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Royal MacNab – Scottish Evening
Jun 11 @ 19:00 - Jun 14 @ 23:30R7200
ENTRIES OPEN 2 DECEMBER 2019 at 12:00. Only 25 places available.
WARNING: BOOK IMMEDIATELY on 2 DECEMBER AT 12 ELSE IT WILL BE TOO LATE…
The Scottish evening is one of the highlights of the MacNab. The interior of the Country Club dons tartans, tables are decorated accordingly and live music is supplied by Pipers. Many of the participants and guests wear kilts.
The highlight of the evening is the “Ode of the Haggis” event. Pipers lead the procession with great show and skirling of the pipes while the rest follows with the Haggis proudly displayed on a platter. The Haggis is placed on a table and all listen while the “Ode to a Haggis” is read. A member of the procession then takes a dagger and stabs the Haggis whereupon the rest of the procession lift a glass and drink to the Haggis.
A delicious meal is served and all are invited to enjoy the Haggis, a traditional Scottish dish, with their main meal. After dinner, the dance carries on until late at night.
Note: Royal MacNab shirts, caps, jackets and fishing jackets are sold during the weekend. The Standard Bank OTM, FNB OTM and Fuel station (lead free fuel) is available 24 hours.
Address To A Haggis
Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the puddin-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 there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o’ need,
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An’ cut you up wi’ ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Then, horn for horn,
they stretch an’ strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve,
Are bent lyke drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi’ perfect sconner,
Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view
On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him ower his trash,
As feckless as a wither’d rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro’ bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He’ll mak it whissle;
An’ legs an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,
Like taps o’ thrissle.
Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o’ fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,
Gie her a haggis!
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