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stdin => Address to a Haggis
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| Land der Berge, Land am Strome, | ||
| Land der Äcker, Land der Dome, | ||
| Land der Hämmer, zukunftsreich! | ||
| Heimat bist du großer Söhne, | ||
| Volk, begnadet für das Schöne, | ||
| vielgerühmtes Österreich, | ||
| vielgerühmtes Österreich! | ||
| 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 worthy o' a grace | ||
| As lang's my arm. | ||
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| Heiß umfehdet, wild umstritten | ||
| liegst dem Erdteil du inmitten, | ||
| einem starken Herzen gleich. | ||
| Hast seit frühen Ahnentagen | ||
| hoher Sendung Last getragen, | ||
| vielgeprüftes Österreich, | ||
| vielgeprüftes Österreich! | ||
| 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. | ||
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| Mutig in die neuen Zeiten, | ||
| frei und gläubig sieh uns schreiten, | ||
| arbeitsfroh und hoffnungsreich. | ||
| Einig laß in Brüderchören, | ||
| Vaterland, dir Treue schwören, | ||
| vielgeliebtes Österreich, | ||
| vielgeliebtes Österreich! | ||
| His knife see rustic Labour dight, | ||
| An cut you up wi ready slight, | ||
| Trenching your gushing entrails bright, | ||
| Like onie ditch; | ||
| And then, O what a glorious sight, | ||
| Warm-reekin, rich! | ||
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| 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 like drums; | ||
| The auld Guidman, maist like to rive, | ||
| 'Bethankit' hums. | ||
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| Is there that owre his French ragout, | ||
| Or olio that wad staw a sow, | ||
| Or fricassee wad mak her spew | ||
| Wi perfect scunner, | ||
| Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view | ||
| On sic a dinner? | ||
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| Poor devil! see him owre 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! | ||
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| But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, | ||
| The trembling earth resounds his tread, | ||
| Clap in his walie nieve a blade, | ||
| He'll make it whissle; | ||
| An legs an arms, an heads will sned, | ||
| Like taps o thrissle. | ||
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| 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 |