Haggis

On mountainsides and braes

Foraging, for slugs and snails

Is how he spends his days

.

But come the rutting season

A change in him you'll find

He'll go out searching, high and low

For others of his kind

.

His plumage changes colour

From brown to scarlet red

A pair of tree like antlers

He sports upon his head

.

Then if a female he should sense

On hind legs, at full height

Lets out his raucous mating call

In the Scottish summer night

.

The pair perform their mating dance

In amongst the heather

Then when the dance is over

Go at it, hell for leather

.

In just six weeks the brood is born

And unlike any other

They suckle at their fathers breast

And not that of the mother

.

Then when the weaning's over

They'll go their separate ways

Foraging for slugs and snails

On the mountains and the braes

.

If you find yourself in Scotland

And you hear those raucous cries

Gird your loins, be not afraid

It is just the Haggiis