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From
our collection of poems by
Glaswegian Poet & Writer Stuart McLean
Epitaph For a Haggis
O hairy wee critter who,
Once lived amongst the heather,
And ran aroun’ the mountains,
Nae matter what the weather.
It seems so sad for him tae die,
Jist tae gie tae me a feast,
But it wis the hunting season,
So I shot the poor wee beast.
Copyright Stuart McLean : from No'
Rabbie Burns
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