Butter Brickle

I smell the cheese, im in a pickle
You're keeping me in butter brickle
Far doon hil, round comes the glee
All masters cry and plead

We cry and laugh just from a tickle
An anti-deppressant form of ritual
Zip up your mouth, unbutton your heart
We're natural born killers its parcel and part

We're all here kept in butter brickle
But my scottish sterling beats the nickle
From east to west the kilt blows up
Smoking brown to dirty up.