IN Scotland all the people wear Red hair and freckles, and one sees The men in women's dresses there, With stout, decollete, low-necked knees. (' Eblins ye dinna ken, I doot, We 're unco guid, so hoot, mon, hoot!')
They love ' ta whuskey' and ' ta Kirk'; I don't know which they like the most. They aren't the least afraid of work ; No sense of humour can they boast; And you require an axe to coax The canny Scot to see your jokes.
They play an instrument they call The bagpipes ; and the sound of these Is reminiscent of the squall Of infant pigs attacked by bees; Music that might drive cats away Or make reluctant chickens lay.
Wear kilts, and, tho' men look askance, Go out and give your knees a chance.