Oh what a sleekit horrible beastie
Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie
Just as ye sit doon among yer kin
There sterts to stir an enormous wind.
The neeps and tatties and mushy peas
Stert workin like a gentle breeze
But soon the puddin wi the sauncie face
Will have ye blawin’ all ower the place.
Nae matter whit the hell ye dae
A’bodys gonnae have tae pay
Even if ye try to stifle,
It’s like a bullet oot a rifle.
Hawd yer bum tight tae the chair
Tae try and stop the leakin air
Shift yersel frae cheek tae cheek
Prae tae God it doesnae reek.
But aw yer efforts go assunder
Oot it comes like a clap a thunder
Ricochets aroon the room
Michty me, a sonic boom!
[Posted courtesy of the KB Serious Burns Unit]
"Standing on your mother's corpse you told me that you'd wait forever." [Bryan Adams: Summer of 69]
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