Many's the time my honour's been,
Dented or otherwise insulted,
And though I go to lengths to avoid a scene,
That's often how it's resulted.
But often I've opposing views:
On whether my honour I should defend,
Or let my softer morals choose,
How best my pique I should portend.
So what's a man to do when faced with this,
Between his honour and his morals?
I often resolve it with a 'Glesga kiss',
The gentlest way a Scotsman may end his quarrels.
So remember when faced with devils in skirts,
Their farewells often cause your head to hurt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem