Legends

Legends

M6

The North

Scotland

where it rains a’ the time

where the midges swarm

and the tics wait in line;

where it’s never warm

and they eat their weans

while their favourite food’s

made of offal brains -

stuffed intestine skins.

And anither thing;

have ye heard the lies

that the Kelpies sing?

Have ye seen the size

o’that Nessie beast

when she breaks the waves

for a belly rub?

For the fame she craves?

Did ye ken the Scots

are a mongrel race

richt fae John o’Groats

doon tae Rabbie’s place?

And we ken nae wheesht

when it comes to peace

with our ain true folk

never mind the joke

that has kept us bound

to a far off rule.

Aye, an’ hoots! Ye ken,

get it up yer kilt,

are ye dancin’ hen?

a’ the booze we’ve spilt

as we celebrate

or try tae forget!

We were born for this

by a traitor’s kiss

and a bag of gold

but so long as we’re

covered by the Cloud

and the awful swarm

we’ll keep our foes at bay

and our welcome warm.

24/6/23