We visit the Gannet in Finnieston for a traditional Burns Night.
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00:00Great chieftain! O the pungent race. Upon them ah ye attack your place.
00:12Paint, tripe, or fern.
00:22Well, are ye worthy. O a grace.
00:35See rustic, laboured act. And cut ye up.
00:46With ready slits, drenching your gushing entrails bright.
00:53Like on a ditch. And oh, what a glorious sight.
01:04Warm, reeking, and rich. Then horn for horn they'll stretch and strive.
01:21Deal tight the hindmost on they drive. Till all their well-swallowed kites,
01:27Alive, are bent like drums. All good men must be writhe.
01:40Be, thank it, hums.
01:46Well, all the old would store us sued. Our fricassee would make our spirits perfect scudder.
01:58What's down with sneering, scornful viewing, sick at dinner?