Burns Night
Oh what a sleekit horrible beastie
Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie
Jist as ye sit doon amongst 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 sonsie face
hae ye blawin all ower the place
Nae matter whit the hell ye dae
a'body's gonnae hae tae pay
Even if it ye try to stifle
It's like a bullet oot a rifle
Hawd yer bum ticht tae the chair
tae try and stop the leakin air
Shify yersel fae cheek tae cheek
Prae tae God it doesnae reek
But aw yer efforts go assunder
oot it comes wi a clap o thunder
Ricochets aroon the room
michty me ! a sonic boom
Guid God amichty it fairly reeks
Hope I huvnae filled ma breeks
tae the bog ah'd better scurry
aw whit the hell, it's no ma worry
A'body aroon aboot me chokin
wan or two are clearly bokin
Ah'll feel better for a while
An cannae help but raise a smile
Wis him! I shout wi accusin glower
ower
Ye dirty bugger they shout and stare
A dinnae feel welcome any mair
Where e're ye go let yer wind gan' free
sounds jist like the job fur me
whit a fuss at Rabbie's perty
ower the sake o' wan wee ferty
Anon no longer. Updated as of 2024. Poem by Michael Devlin © 2008.