A SCOTTISH TOAST

Tae a Fart

Oh fit a sleekit horrible beastie Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie Just as ye sit doon among yer kin there sterts tae stir an enormous wind

The neeps an tatties an musy peas Stert working like a gentle breeze Boot soon the puddin wi the sauncie face Will huv ye blawin aw ower the place

Nae matter fit the hell ye dae A'body's gonnae huv 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 Shify yersel fae cheek tae cheek Prae tae God it doesnae reek

But aw yer efforts gae assunder Oot it comes like a clap a thunder Ricochets aroon the room Michty me a sonic boom

God almighty it fairly reeks Hope a huvnae shit ma breeks Tae the bog a better scurry Aw fit the hell, its nae ma worry

A'body roon aboot me chokin Wan or twa are nearly bokin A'll feel better fer muckle while Cannae help boot raise a smile

Wis him! A shout accusin glower Alas tae late, he's jist keeled ower Ye dirty bugger they shout and stare A dinnae feel welcome any mair

Where e're ye gae let yer wind gan' free Sounds like just the job fer me. Fit a fuss at rabbie's party Ower the sake o' won wee farty!