SCOTLAND

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 do n't know which they like the most.

They are n'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.