I’m a honey badger, tough and stout,
I scrap with snakes and don’t back out,
But on a stroll I paused mid-chew,
For a glowing can of Irn-Bru.

I gave a sniff—sharp, sweet, and bright,
Like citrus picked for a bar-room fight,
I cracked it open with casual flair,
And took a sip… now that’s a dare.

It tickled my nose, it fizzed up fast,
A sugary punch that’s built to last,
Not quite normal, a little offbeat,
Like wearing slippers with muddy feet.

Would I drink more? Without a doubt,
I’d claw through bins just to seek it out,
A wild wee brew, both bold and bright,
That adds some chaos to any bite.

I don’t care much—that much is true,
But I’ll make space for Irn-Bru.