Wee Tam wis chuffed, his face wis bricht;
He’d hud a cracker eh a nicht,
Knoackin’ back the Jagerbombs
Wi Dave an’ Billy –
But noo the time hud come ti catch
The bus fur Killie.
Fur bouncers scraped him aff the flair
An’ fired him doon the Cathoose stair,
He did protest but goat naewhere,
Wee Tam thoat: “F*ck it”;
He staggered intae KFC
An’ boat a bucket.
An’ while wee Tam wis staunin’ there,
He thoat he might as weel git mare;
A zinger an’ some extra wings
He wid indulge in.
Tam took a seat, devoured the loat,
His stomach bulgin’.
But strugglin’ doon Argyle Street,
Tam, still unsteady oan his feet,
Began ti doot if sitch a banquet
Hud bin wise.
“Am fine”, he thoat, goat oan the bus
An’ shut his eyes.
Soon efter, it wis oan its way
An’ aw pair Tam could dae wis pray,
But booze an’ fid, consumed in haste,
Hud made him sicken:
He pebble-dashed the windae seat
Wi chunks eh chicken.
Oor Tam let oot a mighty chunder,
Castin’ lumps eh spew asunder;
His dreams eh pullin’ oan the bus
Wir cruelly shatturt,
As hawf digestit fid aroon’
His ankles splatturt.
Then Tam felt a faint, cauld fear
As Fenwick roon’aboot loomed near;
He thoat: “Aw Christ!”, an’ fought ti keep
But nothin’ could forestall
Tam’s cheesy bean emission.
Soon the bus stoapt in the station,
Much ti pair wee Tam’s elation;
Steppin’ ower his masterpiece
Eh oarange an’ yella
Yid hink he’d hud an awfa dose
So, let this be a lesson, gid,
Ti boozers scoffin’ tons eh fid:
A ken yir hungry, but yir tum
May well feel shitey;
Mind wee Tam’s tale or you may face
The night bus whitey.