Ode to a haggis, and a Seaside Landlady

I'm preparing for our Burns supper tonight. Okay I'm not Scottish but it's always a good excuse for a night of fne whisky drinking and poetry on a grey January day. I was trying to explain to our 3 Italian businessmen how we celebrate the bard's birthday with his favourite tipple, poetry and haggis, tatties and neeps. Once I convinced them the haggis wasn't an animal they were a bit taken aback by the ingredients - sheep's liver, heart, lungs and oatmeal cooked in the sheep's stomach, recently updated I understand with a dessert of deep fried Mars bar available from the local chippy. Judging by the expression on their faces as they glanced up from the online dictionary it has quite enhanced Britain's culinary reputation. So why not raise a glass with me this evening and celebrate the birthday of one of Scotland's best! (The bard and the haggis!) Judging by the poem below perhaps he and I met in a previous life. He could have booked in with me anytime!

O my Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.