Pulling some old threads together…. Part 2 – Don’t Look In The Pie

Notes: For the benefit of those not from Scotland, the kind of “pie” under discussion here is a meat pie.  We recognise that other culinary traditions discuss exotica like apple pies, or key lime pies, but we regard these with the sort of benevolent amusement with which one looks upon the misguided, but well-intentioned daubings of a favourite relative who has taken up oil painting, but clearly has eyes made of wood.
Don’t Look In The Pie
When I was a young lad, around nine or ten
Someone fed me a pie, loved them ever since then
Though you’d never know it, to look at me now
My favourite treat
was a pie made with meat
Sheep, pig, chicken or cow
Then I grew eager, to find out the truth
Why were they so tasty – The delight of my tooth?
I was so desperate,  to see under the lid,
But before I tried
My dad took me aside
And said “Listen, kid”
Don’t look in the pie, son, I’m telling you why
Take heed and beware, there’s nothing in there
To gladden your eye.
Won’t you listen to me, son? Please hear my cry
Take it from me, there’s nothing you want to see
Don’t look in the pie
A pie’s not a cake son, filled with jam cream or fruit
Bite into a pie, nothing pretty runs oot
You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs
the stuff inside pies
Used to have eyes
it used to have legs
Though you feel compelled to, though you feel that you must
If you were meant to look in there, they wouldn’t put on a crust
Darkness lurks in a pie, son, there is skin and there’s bone
Death and despair
Blood guts and hair
Please just leave it alone.

Ever since Eden’s garden, where Eve and Adam, they played
We’ve been looking in pies, son. it’s just the way we are made.
Even though it may cut you,  as hard as a stone
it hurts and it stings
but there are some things
Not meant to be known


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