Scotsman and his Egg

Copyright © 1998
Royal Stuarts
All Rights Reserved

Over three hundred years ago, there was a Scotsman who had a chicken. And every morning the Scotsman would go out into his yard and collect the egg his chicken had laid. Now the border between Scotland and England has always been a rather "turbulent" place. You never knew who your neighbor was, or if you could trust him. Such is the case of the Scotsman and the Englishman, who by ill chance, lived next to each other.

Well, one morning the chicken had crossed over from the Scotsman's yard into his neighbor's yard. In as much as it was his chicken, the Scotsman decided to walk over into the Englishman's yard to collect his egg. No sooner had he done this then the Englishman came barreling out of his house, raced over to where the egg lay and scooped it up for himself.

The Scotsman said, "I thank you, neighbor for picking up my egg for me."

But the Englishman replied, "Ah, but it is my egg."

"But it came from my hen."

"But it was laid in my yard."

"Would you say the same of my hen?"

"If I catch your hen in my yard, I'll have a fine chicken dinner."

"Keep your fowl hands off my chicken!"

Suddenly, an argument broke out that would have made the battle of Pinkie Cleugh look like a picnic. No matter what logic the Scotsman used, the Englishman was not going to budge, for he was a stubborn as a wheel in clay. Finally, the Scotsman remembered the way highlanders settle their disagreements with sauchienaugh.

"Wait a moment." the Scotsman cried, "I know how to solve such an argument".

"A duel - swords at dawn?"

"No, too bloody."

"A race - first one into town and back."

"No, too long."

"Then what do you suggest?" wondered the Englishman.

"A test of strength. We each take turns kicking the other in the stomach and who ever gets up the fastest gets the egg."

Well, the Englishman thought long and hard about this competition, and finally agreed.

"Well," suggested the Scotsman, "Since you have the egg, I shall go first."

Now. There's one thing you should know. The Scotsman always wore a pair of heavy, steel toed lumber boots that most men could hardly walk in. Although the Scotsman had no trouble walking in these boots, lifting his foot up high was quite another matte. The Scotsman reared back his leg and gave a mighty kick as would likely have made a goal from center field with a ten pound stone. Only although the Scotsman had no trouble walking in these boots, lifting his foot up high was quite another matter and his foot didn't make it quiet all the way to the Englishman's stomach.

The Englishman froze solid. Well, the Englishman's eyes got big and round, and all the color drained from his face. Little tiny tears started to stream down his cheeks, his knees began to buckle and he cried out the only thought in his head, "My eggs!"

As he fell to the ground. Not willing to lose the competition, the Englishman gathered up all the strength he could muster and slowly climbed to his feet again. With a squeak he proclaimed, "My turn."

The Scotsman replied with a slight chuckle in his voice.

"Na, keep the egg ya fool."