Much to his Mum
and Dad's dismay, Horace ate himself one day
He didn't stop to say his grace, he just sat down and ate his face
"We can't have this!" his Dad declared, "If that lad's ate, he should be shared!"
But even as he spoke they saw, Horace eating more and more
First his legs and then his thighs, his arms, his nose, his hair, his eyes
"Stop him someone!" Mother cried,
"Those
eyeballs would be better fried!"
But H. was on his second course, his liver and his lights and lung,
his ears, his neck, his chin, his tongue
"To
think I raised him from the cot, and now he's going to scoff the lot!"
His mother cried "What shall we do? What's left won't even make a
stew!"
And as she wept, her son was seen to eat his head, his heart, his spleen
And there he lay, a boy no more,
just
a stomach on the floor
None the less, since it was his, they are it, that's what haggis is.