The tartan army's on it's way
We're marching to the USA
A football tournament to play
The world cup is here
A sea of colour kilts and song
The flower of Scotland singalong
A choir of voices thousands strong
Fuelled by the local beer
The bagpipes match the drummers beat
Fans chant and dance on every street
The team take on the world's elite
Without an ounce of fear
We're here to party nothing more
We'd love to win but fuck the score
Our flags and banners to the fore
From front row to the rear
Although we have a decent past
It's twenty eight long years since last
The highland clans and lowlands massed
And kicked into top gear
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Author:
peto (
Offline) - Published: June 6th, 2026 14:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Syd
Offline)
Comments2
A fun and engaging poem of a sport I love. Well written with wit and rhyme. Love the Scots although my ancestry is Irish I think a loose Scot snuck in some where along the line. Nothing better that the bagpipes unless they are too close to the bedroom window late at night or early morning. Good write
Many thanks soren
I had an irish grandad
Glasgow is very much influenced by the irish
I truly appreciate your time and comment on a game we both love
You are most welcome Peto
Hi Peto, great poem.
I love true patriotism involving your beloved national team. I'll be hesitant to fly the England flag myself because the flag shaggers have hijacked it and turned it into a political symbol. Good luck in the world cup.
Same to you syd
Fly your flag
You know exactly what it means
I'll be flying mine
Great to see you
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