Phony Bard Baloney

This is not spam or baloney
Covered in cheese and macaroni
Though my Scottish may be phony
Your oxter it may sometimes stink
Like the south end of a highland pony
Pulling the oose over eyes tickled pink

I've not seen oose wrinkle
wrote rocky to Bullwinkle
I've never seen a sweaty girl
Wrote the moose to the Squirrel
Their oxters just need a wee sprinkle

For I am oose and oose often returns
Like the fine poetry of Robert Burns
Held dear as the whole world learns
Their oxters tended the books are dusted
And in archaic tongue a bard earns
The old wisdom, hence can be trusted