As I put my nose in Pitlochry
One sunny highland noon
Why the sun, of course soon disappeared
So I stayed there in the gloom.
There were many a well dressed lads o’er there
And dressed up all in kilts they were
Their faces red with tossing the caber
Putting stone and drinking whisky
He poles they threw were big as trees
I’d never risk me life to move them
Hammers that they threw so far
Would surely rip my shoulders out
So ’ sought a pub and sat meself
And turned to things were meant for me
There drank a beer then two then three
And soon I dreamed of mighty feats
refr.
Fly, fly, fly up to the sky
Fly, fly like a sweet firkin lullaby
Fly, fly, fly up to the sky
For my spirits from the whisky’s getting high.
I befriended many a chums
While stood the ground and sat and drank
And stood some rounds and did not know
What I could say to piss them off
But suddenly a punch arrived
From the ether to mine ear
Deductively I soon derived
That I should have another beer
(or two, or three, perhaps to wee dram too)
So that befell in Pitlochry
Not so very long ago
And thought it still shows on me face
I still would have another go
For though the punch was hard, the whisky
Poured to me was smooth and creamy
’nd ever since I tasted it
It firkin raised my kundalini