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soul-in-tormentPoems
in Scotland fair you must beware the weathered moor at night For it is said a thing of dread hunts neath it's pale moon light It's small and stout and loves to shout and scare the tiny mice It kicks the trees to wake the bees because it is not nice it runs amok through herd and flock and makes the chickens fly Then opens gates and shakes lose slates and takes pigs from the sty It up roots crops and spills the hops and dances in the flour Though rarely seen its really mean and turns the fresh milk sour It squashes flat each butter pat and mixers wheat with grain then ups and screams to spoil your dreams and runs away again The Haggis see is wild and free and likes to cause such fun Breaks traps and snares and frees the hares and helps them to their run The hunting hound that sniffs the ground Will never find his scent because he sweats sweet Vi-o-lets to cover where he went The Heathered moor and rains that pour wash away his tracks and he's not scared he is prepared for haggis run in packs With teeth and claws and snapping jaws they are a sight to see So think before you seek that moor where they run wild and free
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Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 7:39 AM UTC
wild haggis
in Scotland fair you must beware the weathered moor at night For it is said a thing of dread hunts neath it's pale moon light It's small and stout and loves to shout and scare the tiny mice It kicks the trees to wake the bees because it is not nice it runs amok through herd and flock and makes the chickens fly Then opens gates and shakes lose slates and takes pigs from the sty It up roots crops and spills the hops and dances in the flour Though rarely seen its really mean and turns the fresh milk sour It squashes flat each butter pat and mixers wheat with grain then ups and screams to spoil your dreams and runs away again The Haggis see is wild and free and likes to cause such fun Breaks traps and snares and frees the hares and helps them to their run The hunting hound that sniffs the ground Will never find his scent because he sweats sweet Vi-o-lets to cover where he went The Heathered moor and rains that pour wash away his tracks and he's not scared he is prepared for haggis run in packs With teeth and claws and snapping jaws they are a sight to see So think before you seek that moor where they run wild and free
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soul-in-torment
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 7:39 AM UTC
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