Zweihänder - Six Feet o' Singin' Steel
I. Och, gie me ma Zweihänder, six feet o' singin' steel, The bonniest blade tae ever make a battlefield kneel! A sword sae lang, sae lovely, ye could prop the moon upon her — And any wee lord wha doubts it can sook on the pommel for honor.
II. Pikes? Pikes are for ploughboys! And rapiers — feh! — A rapier's a knittin' needle held by a daisy named Beth. A claymore's awright, I'll grant ye, but a claymore is a wean — Ma Zweihänder's its braw big brother, and twice as mean.
III. Now tell me, ye drippin' candle, ye damp wee sock, Ye custard-spined cuddle-cake wi' the spine of a clock — How's a pork-chop tae reach me wi' his dainty wee dirk When his heid's already split six feet afore he can lurch?
IV. I'll snicker-snack a path through a castle o' blueberry muffins, Lop the loaves clean off the toffs in their lacy wee stuffins! Ram a pike up a macaroni hat, send the feathers a-flyin' — A peacock without a heid disnae do much cryin'.
V. Tell me again, ye boiled bishop, ye pudding-faced pope, Ye lily-livered, lard-fisted, weasel-in-a-wig dope — That a halberd is better? A halberd's a hoe wi' delusions! Ma sword IS the halberd, ye haggis o' wrong conclusions!
VI. Ye duller than a spoon! Ye dimmer than a candle in soup! Ye haggis on its way out the way it came in — and out the way it didnae! Ye soggy oatcake! Ye chamberpot Charlie! Ye turnip-skulled toff! Yer wife wears the breeks and yer horse laughs ye off!
VII. Six feet o' German thunder, forged by some big-armed lass (Aye, I bet she was a lass — nae man could pour that much sass) — She danced in the foundry, she sang tae the steel, An' she whispered tae her sword: "Go find a Scottish lass real."
VIII. And here I am, ma darlin'! Come hame tae yer wife! We'll waltz through the pikemen and put the fear in their life! We'll twirl through the doppelsöldners, we'll dance through the queues, We'll leave a wee trail o' duke-mince and a duchess's shoes!
IX. Ma brothers? Ma brothers go pale when I sharpen ma love. Wee Hamish hides in the haystack, wee Angus runs tae the cove — "Da! Da! She's at it again wi' the whetstone an' grin!" And Da just sighs, "Aye, lads. Let yer sister begin."
X. Ye whey-faced wassailer! Ye thimble-dicked thane! Ye bonnet wi' nothin' in it, ye half a haggis o' brain! Ye starched fart in a doublet! Ye buttered toad in mail! Ye codpiece wi' a cough! Ye dribble at the end o' the ale!
XI. For I'll snicker-snack through princes, I'll snicker-snack through kings, I'll lop the lairds in two and I'll giggle as they ping — PING goes the helmet, ping-ping goes the greave, Ping-ping-PLOP goes the heid, and the body takes its leave.
XII. So gie me ma Zweihänder! Gie me ma weddin' day blade! Let the fools line up in their frills and their fancy parade — I'll be the lass at the end o' the lane wi' a smile and a swing, And six feet o' singin' steel makin' the whole world ring.
Insults Tae Steal
For yer friends, yer foes, and that one cousin. Copy freely, deliver with venom.
- Duller than a spoon.
- Dimmer than a candle in soup.
- A haggis on its way out the way it came in — and out the way it didnae.
- Soggy oatcake.
- Chamberpot Charlie.
- Turnip-skulled toff.
- Drippin' candle.
- Damp wee sock.
- Custard-spined cuddle-cake.
- A spine of a clock.
- Boiled bishop.
- Pudding-faced pope.
- Lily-livered, lard-fisted, weasel-in-a-wig.
- Haggis o' wrong conclusions.
- Whey-faced wassailer.
- Thimble-dicked thane.
- Bonnet wi' nothin' in it.
- Half a haggis o' brain.
- Starched fart in a doublet.
- Buttered toad in mail.
- Codpiece wi' a cough.
- Dribble at the end o' the ale.
- A rapier of a daisy named Beth.
- A halberd is a hoe wi' delusions.
- A peacock without a heid.
- Yer wife wears the breeks and yer horse laughs ye off.