TAE A MOOTH (with apologies to Robert Burns)
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
When e’re the press dark money mention
Elsewhere scuttles your attention
There's times yer sic a gay wee lassie
Staunin proud, a’ fierce and sassie
Staunin up for rights wi’ passion
If ye think it helps ye cash in
It's Tories guid, the Nats aye bad
But your wee face, sae bigly sad
When Niccie’s got ye oan yon wheel
You may maun rather face the de’il
Opinions? Oh, of them ye've many
You change them like a spinnin’ penny
Ye bawled sae strang ye were Remain
An’ noo it’s Leave again, again
You bow afore the winds of May
Hopin’ that will come the day
In yon Bute Hoose ye will reside
You’ll just as like command the tide...
No comments:
Post a Comment