Cheiftan o the puddin race [shedir]

Naw, no Slim. Oor dearly beloved Haggis ya fucker!
Oh what a sleekit horrible beastieLurks in yer belly efter the feastieJust as ye sit doon, among yer kinThere sterts to stir an enormous wind
The neeps and tatties and mushy peasStert working like a gentle breezeBut 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 hae tae pay Even if ye try to stifle It’s like a bullet oot a rifle
Hawd yer bum tight tae the chairTae try and stop the leakin airShify yersel fae cheek tae cheekPrae tae God it doesnae reek
But aw yer efforts go asunderOot it comes…… like a clap o thunder !Ricochets aroon the roomMichty me ! A sonic boom !
Good God Almighty, it fairly reeksHope I huvnae shit ma breeksTae the bog, I better scurryAch whit the hell, it’s no my worry
A’body roon aboot me chokingWan or two are nearly boakin’I’ll feel better in a whileA cannae help but raise a smile
Alas too late, he’s just keeled owerYe durty bugger ! they shout and stareA dinnae feel welcome any mair
Where e’re ye go let yer wind gang free Sounds just like the job fur me Whit a fuss at Rabbie’s perty Ower the sake o’ wan wee ferty !