The haggis is an ugly bird
And hunting it is quite absurd
Two long legs and one more short
So on the hills it can cavort.

You shoot its short front leg away
Then watch it try to upright stay
Until it falls and bangs its snout
Upon a rock its then knocked out

But now your troubles just begin
How do you kill the ruddy thing?
It looks at you with big sad eyes
You feel like Satan in disguise

So you decide to let it go
You lift it softly from the snow
And gently throw it in the air
But the bastard craps right in your hair.

Because you see you sorry lot
The haggis is a bloody Scot
And if you hurt us in any way
We'll get you back the self same day

Big Mick, death threats are not our style
But I would not close my eyes a-while
Or you'll hear as you nod your head
Ten thousand pipers by your bed.

So let the poor wee haggis be
And if you catch one, set it free
But if you catch a Scot I think
It's better just to buy him drink!!!