One of Burns long lost poems!
TAE A FERT
Oh what a sleekit horrible beastie,
Lurks in yer bellie, efter the faestie.
Just as ye sit doon amang yer kin,
There sterts tae stir an enormous wind.
The neeps and tatties and mushy peas,
Stert workinâ like a gentle breeze.
But soon the pudding wi the sonsie face,
Will have ye blawinâ aw ower the place.
Nae matter what the hell ye dae,
Awbodyâs gonnae have tae pay.
Even if ye try tae stifle,
Itâs like a bullet oot a rifle.
Haud yer bum ticht tae the chair,
Ye try tae stop the leakinâ air.
Shift yersel frae cheek tae cheek,
Pray tae God it disnae reek.
But awe yer efforts go asunder,
Oot it comes like a clap oâ thunder.
Ricochets aroon the room,
Michty me, a sonic boom.
God almighty It fairly reeks,
I hope I huvnae sh*t ma breeks.
Tae the bog I better skurry,
Aw what the hell, itâs no ma worry.
Awbody roon aboot me chokinâ
Wan or two are nearly bokin.
I feel much better for a while,
Cannae help but raise a smile.
Wis him I shout with accusinâ glower,
Alas too late, heâs just keeled ower.
Ye dirty bugger, they shout and stare,
I dinnae feel welcome any mair.
Where ere ye go, let yer wind gan free,
Sound just like the job fur me.
Whit a fuss, at Rabbieâs perty,
Awe fer the sake oâ wan wee ferty
TAE A FERT
Oh what a sleekit horrible beastie,
Lurks in yer bellie, efter the faestie.
Just as ye sit doon amang yer kin,
There sterts tae stir an enormous wind.
The neeps and tatties and mushy peas,
Stert workinâ like a gentle breeze.
But soon the pudding wi the sonsie face,
Will have ye blawinâ aw ower the place.
Nae matter what the hell ye dae,
Awbodyâs gonnae have tae pay.
Even if ye try tae stifle,
Itâs like a bullet oot a rifle.
Haud yer bum ticht tae the chair,
Ye try tae stop the leakinâ air.
Shift yersel frae cheek tae cheek,
Pray tae God it disnae reek.
But awe yer efforts go asunder,
Oot it comes like a clap oâ thunder.
Ricochets aroon the room,
Michty me, a sonic boom.
God almighty It fairly reeks,
I hope I huvnae sh*t ma breeks.
Tae the bog I better skurry,
Aw what the hell, itâs no ma worry.
Awbody roon aboot me chokinâ
Wan or two are nearly bokin.
I feel much better for a while,
Cannae help but raise a smile.
Wis him I shout with accusinâ glower,
Alas too late, heâs just keeled ower.
Ye dirty bugger, they shout and stare,
I dinnae feel welcome any mair.
Where ere ye go, let yer wind gan free,
Sound just like the job fur me.
Whit a fuss, at Rabbieâs perty,
Awe fer the sake oâ wan wee ferty