Sunday, 25 January 2015

Blawin' hot an' cauld

Today I've been blawin' hot an' cauld -
I have a dose o' yon 'flu.
Part dozy wi' bursts of clarity
Followed in turns by sleep and restlessness.
Snippets of news percolate through
The misty, fogs and clamframjammery
That is the seiver in tae ma mind
Held in the cotton wool land inside ma heid.

Scots wha' hae Burns, yet dinna burn
Wi sense o'worth quhit wid stap a mill
No matters if power'd by cat's pish.
Whose dews distill tae foul and rancid fat
Whilst singing 'a man's a man fir aa that'.
Lang syne yer love is yet a red, red rose
Turnit blue by evils brought on itself
By rogues wha dinna ding or gie a hoot.

Sic a Holy Wullie dae ye gi' ear
Wha's sel' interest is but themselves
An' aa thon siller they can grasp
I' baith haunds tae fill their gauwpin' maw
O' greed past fou an honest maun can bide
An ca' themsel's saviours o' Scotia
Whilst ca' us on tae vote them home
Aa safe within Westminster's charms.

Whilst in ma gripe amongst carlin's ca's
An buzzin' whine rings in ma ears
I thocht I was gangen skelly when
Thon Murphy gae his lungs a blaw
An cam wi' screeds o' gash an' blethers
As how we' re aa better th 'gether
Yet na in ony way I kent
Forebye yer moral compass' bent.

And now mair keech frae thon same cur
Tae turn yer stomach even mair
Wi tale aa hoo he's kin' delivert
When panic hit thir pair wi' breastie
On vows they'd mak to aa the Scots
Aboot mair power's they gie us soon
Ir niver, iver mair like -
They hae us skelly, as they are.

Sae tae ma fellow Scots I say,
As you cant tae Burns this birthday nicht,
Yer bein' taen as ignorant loons
An' quines wi' nae brains tae share.
Tae aince agin be bocht and sold
Fir yer ain siller an' gold,
Sic a parcel o rogues i' a nation!

1 comment:

  1. Tae bid Murphy a bonailie, in a hunner days time tae come, will nae be a sairie task.