Taste is numbing, shocking; most folks abhor
This dish; it makes your stomach sore. . .
Not like game swell. . .a sheep gut that’s stuffed with goo.
These vittles blow; I’d rather eat a fugu.

Oh, you’ll have some vittles trouble. . .keep down,
Not be heavin’. . .then there’s the sound:
Nosh haggis, vile. . .
Nosh haggis, vile. . .
Nosh haggis, vile farts abound.

It’s hard to think when out air has wafted;
A nostril kink is all that’s wanted.
This doesn’t have to be the pig get-eatin’,
This doesn’t have to be the wind that appalls.

It blows out freely wafting up to the sky;
It blows—I really want to fetally curl.
I do not really want to smell what outlies
From a butt gushing precursor haggis turds.
“Not haggis, vile. . .
Not haggis, vile. . .
Not haggis, vile farts abound!”

There’s people lunchin’ down food makes me hurl. . .
Nasty noshin’—a fress that’s “euw!”
They’ll make a meal of this thing haggis;
They need someone cooking rabbit stew.

It blows out freely wafting up to the eye
And nose; I really want to bleat out, “You churl!

“Stop haggis-style. . .
Stop haggis-vile. . .
Stop haggis-vile farts!”: my sound.