Note: This poem doesn't make sense unless you know Rabbie Burns' Tale of Tam O'Shanter. Oh, and you must be able to understand Scots. Kate O'Shanter's Tale by Matthew Fitt Who'er this tale o' truth shall read, Ilk man and mother's son take heed, Whene'er tae drink ye are inclin'd Or cutty sarks run in your mind, Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear - Remember Tam O'Shanter's mare. Ye ay, ye ah waant a wurd wi ye juist poppt in, duid ye oan the wey hame fae wurk, wur ye juist poppt in fur a wee blethir, wus it a cheerie chinway, eh a quick hiya boys tae the smithie an the millar, eh an a wee hauf o hevvie juist tae keep juist tae keep ye gaun, lyke ay but juist the ane tho ay juist the ane an a wee ane, mind juist the wee, wee, wee, weeist ane an then ye'r awa hame ay sulky sullen dame an aa that ken ay gaitherin hur broos, sae seh is ay, juist the ane gaitherin stoarm, ken nursin hur wrath, whit ay, juist ane bit ay, nae bathir ay oh, ay well, dinnae geis it, Shanter juist dinnae geis it ye cam in heir fowre in the bliddy moarnan an ye wur buckled cuildnae staun cuildnae speik haverin a load ay keech, sae ye wur tellin us hou ye'd juist goat bak fae a ceilidh wi the deevil an hou come ye'd seen viv lumsden's belly button a bletherin, blusterin, drunken blellum, sae ye ur whit a state tae git intae voamit stens doon the bak o yir jaikit werrin sumbiddie else's schune how cuild ye be werrin sumbiddie else's schune an of coorse yir knoab wis hingin oot the tap ay yir breeks nae schemm, huv ye an sei if ye'v byn oot wi yon hoor kirton jean again sae help me ah'll chap it aff an ye hud tae be seik aa owre ma bran new, deep layered haun-med bi crippilt weans in kilbarchan tender pyle carpit duidn't ye whit a state ye wur that pischt that yir ain voamit goat aff the flair an ran ben tae the cludgie an spewed its ring ah dinna ken fowre in the moarnan ye cam in heir duidnae waant yir tea, duid ye (ah'v hud chips) slavin away since six this moarnan a ten myle hyke throu the snaa fur fyrewidd fechtin aff wolfs an bears an lions (ah'v hud chips) slavin away sooth o the boarder spanish meatballs orange ginger an tatties (ah'v hud chips) romanoff a la lila, wattir chestnuts an custart ah hud tae sen the bairns oot tae bolivia fur the fukkin chestnuts an ye cam in hier but ah'v had chips an a wee dona kebab an juist whit in the nemm o the wee manduid ye dae tae the horse ma best brawest cuddie, puir meg that wis the tocher aff ma ain faithir ye'v went an broke it ye'r an eejit shanter a fukkin eejit ah dinna ken whit ye wur playin at bit ye better fynn that tail pronto Who'er this tale o' truth shall read, Ilk man and mother's son take heed, Whene'er tae drink you are inclin'd Or cutty sarks run in your mind, Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear - Remember, remember, remember whit happent tae ma fukkin horse.