Hoot Mon

The seventh son of a seventh son of a son of a gun from Per-rr-rr-th
Hoot Mon, out o' my way, who do you think you are
It's the toe o' my boot, Mon, if you push too far
Hoot Mon, this is the day I celebrate my birth
The seventh son of a seventh son of a son of a gun from Per-rr-rr-th

(Who can play the drums, is there a piper in the town)
(Have them put their kilts on and come right down)

BING:
Ah, you brawny lads, whether you're poor or men of wealth
Meet me in the tavern to drink my health
BOB:
Oh, who's that standing in my path (BING: Stand clear!)
Arrgghh, don't ya know you're face to face with Robbie McMath
(BING: Robbie McMath)
BOTH:
Oh, Hoot Mon, out o' my way, who do you think you are
It's the toe o' my boot, Mon, if you push too far
Hoot Mon, this is the day I celebrate my birth
The seventh son of a seventh son of a son of a gun from Per-rr-rr-th

BING:
I flung Kilcallan and touted McAllan and pretty near crippled McQueen
BOB:
McDuff used to hide, but I beat up McBride and I belted up Barney
McDean
BOTH:
McGraw and McGregor looked worse than a beggar and had to go home for
a bath
You'll never look nobby by makin' a hobby of sparrin' with Robbie
McMath
BOTH:
Oh, Hoot Mon, out o' my way, who do you think you are
It's the toe o' my boot, Mon, if you push too far
Hoot Mon, this is the day I celebrate my birth
The seventh son of a seventh son of a son of a gun from Per-rr-rr-th

SPOKEN:
BOB: Say, Haggis
BING: What is it, McMaggis?
BOB: Where are you from, Laddie?
BING: I'm from Briarcliff-On-The-Heather. It's the station right
after Thistle -On-The-Doon. Where are you from, Laddie?
BOB: I'm from Bristles-On-The-Thigh. It comes right after Shaving-On-
The-Thigh.

BOTH:
Oh, Hoot Mon, out o' my way, who do you think you are
It's the toe o' my boot, Mon, if you push too far
Hoot Mon, this is the day I celebrate my birth
The seventh son of a seventh son of a son of a gun from Per-rr-rr-th