A Scotsman On A Horse

My first wife choked on her haggis
Flecking ma boots wi' hae flaggis
Now I ride around like a kilted Fonz
My sporran filled with tattie scones

Sweet Jessie, let me ride to you
My moustache wet with morning dew
I'll come galumphing through the rye
Devour your Mars bars, deeply fried

You have my foibles at your fingers' ends
Your haughtiness gives me the bends
Pass the Buckie! I'm one lucky laddie
that I might dine on your fine Finnan haddie

We'll buy a wee house and make it a home
Stocked with Irn-Bru and Creamola Foam
No man can tether time or tide
Won't you toast your baffies* by my fireside?

B.R. 24/01/2014

* slippers