He kept goats in the Scot’s town of Effin-Hell
A sage Effin-Hell goat keeper was tony
When one day this Effin-Hell goat keeper
Got kicked by an Effen-Hell goat in his balls and knees
Now the Effen-Hell goat keeper ran for “wee” Effin-Hell Minty
For the big Effin-Hell “chemist “ she ran
For there’s naebody can sort out goat-nobbed balls and knees
Like a Effin-Hell wifey, yes minty, yes she.
Now the big Effin goat keeper was fit as a fiddle
And Tony ran outta Minty's, doon the main Effin-Hell street
In his hand was his big Effen "baton"
He had his big Effin-Hell boots on his feet
and not much else above his knees.
Now the big Effen polis caught the big Effen-Hell goat keeper
Down the river bank, really quite steeper,
And they twisted the Effin Hell goat keeper's "things"
But the big Effin-Hell keeper's goat it’s ain back
‘Cos this big Effin-Hell keeper swung his fists and twae stings
Now they’re both in the Effin-Hell museum
Where the Effin-Hell folk oft come tae see
The remains of the big Effen polis
and the goat keeper's balls dangling there; surprisingly three.
(adapted for ummmm and fgt's reference)