JIM O SHACHTER

[cgscott]

Intae the wids amongst the trees
Jim bared his erse, his cheeks tae ease
Nae sooner had his breeks gan doon
Than shity flees were swarmin roon

Intae the wind he bared his baws
And frae his erse a big keeck faws
The reek it curled amongst the trees
Twis enough tae mak the birdies sneeze
An a the beasts in burn and ditch
Got a whiff o something awfy rich

Big Jim he wis in awfy pain
It came out his erse like a nine pun wean
There wis a tear faw fae his ee
Fur a bigger shite you?d never see

Big Jims erse wis raw and sair
Says Big Jim I?ll shite nae mair
Yonder it lay among the grit
A steemin, stinkin muckle shit

There it lay sae soft sae fresh
Nae hair ,nae teeth, nae brains, nae flesh
Tae wipe his erse Jim yaised a docken
While a aroon the birds were boacken

Jim happed it ower wi stanes and stoor
Then sauntered off across the moor
A wee bit quicker wi bein sae light
Efter riddin himself o that muckle shite

Noo a?ve telt ye this tale for a wee bit laughter
A tale ye can tell for ever after
A tell ye noo, a swear its true
The tale o Jim o Shachter