“(Indeed it is, my son. Look out! The Americans are almost within ear-shot.) Noo we’ve tae begin an’ keep it up till they gang awa, for there mauna be a cheep aboot the hoose, for Annie’s sake! Here they are.”
“Mither! Mither! if ye lo’e me bring me mair haggis.”
Chorus of Americans. Oh, how adorably Scotch!
“Losh keep us a’, but the childie’ll eat his mither oot o’ hoose an’ hame wi’ his haggis. Ye’ll find some o’ it i’ the cupboard.”
American (politely to Hillocks). Have some haggis on me.
Hillocks (with a canny Scotch leer). Thanks; but I prefer a plate.