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The Haggis lives a solitary life
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 

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 a raucous cry
Still your heart, be not afraid
Tis just the Haggii                               


©  22-01-2009

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