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A SAD TALE BROUGHT TO LIGHT INDIRECTLY BY THE SCOTTISH PARLIAMENT'S ANTI-SMOKING REGULATIONS
( In the course of research instigated by the Scottish Parliament before introducing the anti-smoking regulations, this verse was discovered in papers associated with Robbie Burns. It is believed to be genuine, as it possesses echoes of some of the phrases that he has used in other poems. )

THE SCOTTISH SMOKER
Discovered by
Mike Grizaard

This is the tale of wee Willie Angus McBride
Who could nae gi' up smoking how e'er hard he tried
This wee sleekit cow'ring tim'rous smoker
Smoked so much that he got broker and broker
He prayed the Lord the gift to gie him
From slavery to tobacco fore'er to free him
But in spite of mentioning it in his prayers
Every morn he would have to buy his 20 Players
His luv tho' like a red red rose that's newly sprung in June
Threw him oot cos the stink of his clothes overpowered her perfume
His Mam said "If ye carry on you're boon'd tae find
Auld acquaintances 'll be forgot and ne'er brought tae mind
If ye get too sick I worry we'll get into debt
Cos we've nae got a National Health Service yet
Of the warning on the packet will ye no take heed
If you don't I'm afraid you'll soon be deed
You'll be burning our own cottage thatch
Will ye nae get a nicotine patch ?"
Willie said "Mam, don't worry, you making a fuss'll
Annoy me as much as a regulations from Brussels"
One night he went to sleep with a fag in his hand
It caught the bed aflame and they'd no bucket of sand.
Well, the croft burnt doon, the brigade put oot the fire
You could see the conflagration from the Mull of Kintyre
His mates doon the tavern threatened a habit like this'll
Lead tae a thick ear and a kick in the Partick Thistle
They knew ye can tell a smoker by the smell that lingers
And the ash doon the front and unsightly broon fingers
He was phlegming and hoicking but put up with the banter
But ye c'd hardly see him for the clouds roond his tam o' shanter
For years he managed to stay alive
But his lungs finally gave oot at 65
His mates could nae say they were wildly elated
And in view of his habit thought he should be cremated
They all regretted the fun they had poked
But his whole body like a Finnie haddock was smoked
The parson said what a fine fellow he'd been
But the smoke up the chimney was pure nicotine
It rose higher and higher and higher aloft
The rumble that was heard was an angel that coughed
So when you look up to the sky where the clouds abide
Just gi' a wee thought to poor Willie Angus McBride
So fare ye well, Willie Angus for the last time
And let's tak a cup o' kindness for the sake of auld lang syne.
 
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