Lyrics Hoot Mon - Bob Hope

The seventh son of a seventh son of a son of a gun from Per-rr-rr-th
Hoot Mon, out o' my way, who do you think you are
It's the toe o' my boot, Mon, if you push too far
Hoot Mon, this is the day I celebrate my birth
The seventh son of a seventh son of a son of a gun from Per-rr-rr-th

(Who can play the drums, is there a piper in the town)
(Have them put their kilts on and come right down)

Ah, you brawny lads, whether you're poor or men of wealth
Meet me in the tavern to drink my health
Oh, who's that standing in my path (BING: Stand clear!)
Arrgghh, don't ya know you're face to face with Robbie McMath
(BING: Robbie McMath)
Oh, Hoot Mon, out o' my way, who do you think you are
It's the toe o' my boot, Mon, if you push too far
Hoot Mon, this is the day I celebrate my birth
The seventh son of a seventh son of a son of a gun from Per-rr-rr-th

I flung Kilcallan and touted McAllan and pretty near crippled McQueen
McDuff used to hide, but I beat up McBride and I belted up Barney
McDean
McGraw and McGregor looked worse than a beggar and had to go home for
A bath
You'll never look nobby by makin' a hobby of sparrin' with Robbie
McMath
Oh, Hoot Mon, out o' my way, who do you think you are
It's the toe o' my boot, Mon, if you push too far
Hoot Mon, this is the day I celebrate my birth
The seventh son of a seventh son of a son of a gun from Per-rr-rr-th

BOB: Say, Haggis
BING: What is it, McMaggis?
BOB: Where are you from, Laddie?
BING: I'm from Briarcliff-On-The-Heather. It's the station right
After Thistle -On-The-Doon. Where are you from, Laddie?
BOB: I'm from Bristles-On-The-Thigh. It comes right after Shaving-On-
The-Thigh.

Oh, Hoot Mon, out o' my way, who do you think you are
It's the toe o' my boot, Mon, if you push too far
Hoot Mon, this is the day I celebrate my birth
The seventh son of a seventh son of a son of a gun from Per-rr-rr-th