The haggis is all hair and feather,
To protect it from the Scottish weather.
It runs sideways on three legs,
When faced with danger it sits and begs.
At mating time it squeaks and sings,
It does a Highland Dance and flaps it's wings.
At this time you're advised stay well clear,
A stud haggis in rut will show no fear.
It lays two dozen eggs on the heather tree,
Purple and white so no one can see.
The mating season never ceases,
No chance to be endangered species
An angry debate raging aboot the land,
Threatens to get out of hand.
Is haggis beast or is it bird,
The argument is quite absurd.
We all agree it's great tae `feast tae,`
So let's just call it a ' Wing-ed Beastie."
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