Page 33 of Highlands Homecoming

Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy of a grace

As lang ‘s my arm …”

Melissa was in awe.She could barely understand him, but honestly, who cared? In his gorgeous Scots—which she had never heard him speak—he recited the poem as if he were composing it on the spot.

When he reached the part about the knife, Colin picked up the huge kitchen knife that sat beside the haggis and brandished it like he was a Shakespearean actor. He then plunged it deep into the poor, unsuspecting haggis as he read the lines:

“...His knife see Rustic-labour dight,

An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like onie ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich! …”

Both grossed out and fascinated,Melissa pulled out her phone and began to record this amazing performance.

The whole audience was entranced. By the time he reached the last line, he roared like Alan Cumming in a one-man-show ofMacbeth.

“... But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,

Gie her aHaggis!”

The room eruptedinto thunderous applause. Colin, always rather reserved, flushed and returned to his seat.

“Good on you,” said Sandy.

“Outstanding,” said Margaret.

“You are incredible!” Melissa gushed. “I can’t believe … I mean, of course, I know … but wow!”

“Courtroom experience helps with poetry recitation,” said Colin humbly.

They clinked glasses and downed more whisky. Waitstaff brought plates of haggis, neeps, and tatties with whisky sauce to the tables. The food was served family style as everyone chatted.

Now that the main course was served, Drew set up the microphone and a podium. As the meal began to wind down, Drew took the mic.

“It’s time for some readings and a toast to the lassies and laddies.”

Sandy stood and unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket. He read a rich, wonderful rhyming poem—both soulful and hilarious—talking about everything from his daughter, his wife, his mother, and ending with Margaret. There were tears in his eyes as he finally raised his glass and ended with “Let us toast … to the lassies!”

Drew raised a glass and said “Now which brave lassie wants to give a toast to the laddies?”

Melissa was nervous just thinking about speaking, but Margaret stepped up and grabbed the microphone and belted out a savage, bawdy, hilarious poem that shot back at Sandy’s little digs. It was feminist and funny and wonderful. “You’ve met your match!” shouted a member of the audience to Sandy, who chuckled and nodded.

The kitchen doors opened, and waitstaff emerged with pudding. There were trays with a variety of choices for each table. As their waiter appeared, Melissa was awestruck.

“Tonight we have a choice of desserts and small plates for all to share. This one is cranachan, a raspberry whipped cream dessert; this caramel covered cookie is millionaire’s shortbread; this is sticky toffee pudding; and finally, we have a heather-honey specialty ice cream made in-house. Bon appetit!”

As they sampled the incredible desserts, guests took turns approaching the mic and reading Burns poetry.To a Mousewas followed byTo a Louse,and then Drew stood. Someone brought Lindsay out, and she looked around at the crowd finishing their desserts. Everyone was relaxed and happy, and Lindsay’s cheeks flushed with pride.