Scottish poemetry

[footfootfoot]

Who are our Scots? Maybe they can 'splain this poem which I grew up hearing and have just now seen the words to. I'm lost.

There aince was a very pawky duke,
Far kent for his joukery-pawkery,
Wha owned a hoose wi’ a gran’ outlook,
A gairden an’ a rockery.
Hech mon! The pawky duke!
Hoot ay! An’ a rockery!
For a bonnet laird wi’ a sma’ kailyaird
Is naethin’ but a mockery!

He dwalt far up a Heelant glen
Where the foamin’ flood an’ the crag is,
He dined each day on the usquebae
An’ he washed it doon wi’ haggis.
Hech mon! The pawky duke!
Hoot ay! An’ a haggis!
For that’s the way that the Heelanters dae
Whaur the foamin’ flood an’ the crag is!

He wore a sporran an’ a dirk,
An’ a beard like besom bristles,
He was an elder o’ the kirk
And he hated kists o’ whistles!
Hech mon! The pawky duke!
An’ doon on kists o’ whistles!
They’re a’ reid-heidit fowk up North
Wi’ beards like besom bristles!

His hair was reid as ony rose,
His legs was lang an’ bony,
He keepit a hoast an’ a rubbin’-post
An’ a buskit cockernony!
Hech mon! The pawky duke!
An’ a buskit cockernony!
Ye ne’er will ken true Heelantmen
Wha’ll own they hadna ony!

An’ if he met a Sassenach,
Attour in Caledonia,
He gart him lilt in a cotton kilt
Till he took an acute pneumonia!
Hech mon! The pawky duke!
An’ a Sassenach wi’ pneumonia!
He lat him feel that the Land o’ the Leal
‘S nae far frae Caledonia!

Then aye afore he socht his bed
He danced the Gillie Callum,
An’ wi’s Kilmarnock owre his neb
What evil could befall him!
Hech mon! The pawky duke!
What evil could befall him?
When he cast his buits an’ soopled his cuits
Wi’ a gude-gaun Gillie Callum!

But they brocht a joke, they did indeed,
Ae day for his eedification,
An’ they needed to trephine his heid
Sae he deed o’ the operation!
Hech mon! The pawky duke!
Wae’s me for the operation!
For weel I wot this typical Scot
Was a michty loss to the nation!