An obscure bit of probable Burns poetry, "discovered" for Mel's Burns Night party, 2009.
I started with The Bonie Moor-Hen and ended up with this. It assumes you know the basics of haggis-hunting (the beastie has a round, smooth body, a long white furry tail from which sporrans are made, and the legs on one side are longer than those on the other so it can run round mountains: to hunt, chase it the wrong way round the mountain, and it rolls down into the nets.)
The heather was blooming, the meadows were mawn,
I rede you, beware of the haggis, my son,
Sweet-brushing the dew from the brown heather bells
As still as the fairest he sat in their sight
They chased it oe'er gowans, they chased it round hill,
Auld Phoebus himself, came and stared in surprise