“Angus, Hamish and Jock McKintyre,
Had been drinking buddies for years.
And from dusk until light,
Every Saturday night,
They downed whisky and chasers of beer.

Then old Jock he died and left in his will
A message for his two closest friends
Saying, “Do this for me,
“’ cause ye know that we three
“Were true pals right up to the end.

“In my house there’s a bottle of 12 year old scotch,
“That I want you to pour on ma grave.
“Yes, empty the lot,
“Where I rest in my plot,
“Not one drop do I want ye t’ save.”

Well the two sad-eyed Scots took the bottle,
As beside Jock’s grave they both stood.
And Angus he sighed,
While poor Hamish cried . . .
. . . For the friend they had lost had been good.

Then Hamish sniffed as he opened the bottle
“Och I have such a terrible thirst.
“Would it be too unkind,
“Or d’ye think Jock would mind,
“If this passed through our kidneys first?