Epithets o the Byre On the front page o the manifesto: Flats for footballers! Scotland An auld lady meowing to hersel Like a mad cat ‘Wha pockelled ma purse? Wha robbed ma meter? Whas face is this in the mirror? Er ma fiery een wit frostwork?’ Well dat she’s in a care home Fur the fiscally frisked Chianti chianti The papal bane At Parkheid arses warm Gone keep yer baw Good-willers aw A’ll nae kiss yer ring Wide as Poncho Pilates’s maw Macwhatnot, Macwhatnot, It’s said in Leith Academy yi were learned Wid the police in Leith In auld Maude’s parlour Cuffed yi tae a sailor A veesitor tae the gallery A saw Kiffling-cough Put in a foot Tinkler-trumpet-tongue Wi clauses on Udder-clap an twiddle Twa-handed-work Thrice paid fur Plooin tilly-clay an spoutin addle-dub The greenhoose gas-bag The fungal soup Nae metro delights Just turn oot the lights Save yer poo For connel sticks Yi get on ma wick At windmills dae yi tilt Dizzy chatterbus Chatter-strap Chatter-vengeance! The Dumbie dyke Has cracked And will craic on again How deeps the moat How steep’s the climb The chamber’s stooud oot wi
34 the drouth
By Molly Maguire
Greasy poles No frae Crackaff Wid they were Sound timbers. Boss Hog His green credentials Green as snotters glab Bapp-nosed he’d kiss His ain arse Sae Trump tae trump Nebb er binked The political consensus Is Lockerbie’s a dump We’ll no go golfin there then. Boss Hog geen us free tickets Tae see the national squad Pizza pied on Sky Boss Hog extrordinarie renditioned Aff his ain back The Lewis Chess Men Mon the Greeks reclaw The Elgin Marbles His Marbles ur aw Briggit-bawed For on the Fife coast he went searchin Fur Elgin. Boss Hog lee aff John Smeaton isny green His courage-bag was er true blue His is oor mate and hero So hands aff The red carpet Has he trod an gallas He’s nae yella Though many pints hae been Youbayed an tubed So yi’d think Hogmanany Came in scarlet June So lee aff He’s no your kin o boy He’s no awbeedeezsss kin o boy He’s John Smeaton A’m very proud John Smeaton Is a loon that’s amang us Havin said that A don’t really know him A ken he’s won an gowden oscar Fae the people So get yer sticky mitts aff! Boss Hog What blue-bonnet
Does he tart The Gorgie loon’s A whirit fart That, ayes ,wirly’d oot The peerless Wishaw trickster Wi mair pies than fingers And they twa fishy hairies Muckle twaddles bookies boot On short points o order He’s Boss Hog An the twa Greens Shuggle wobbles Frae the malt-shop Organic rape seed He’ll craw them An greasy goose fat His Brilcream Wid wi Delia’s help He’d fashion a shortcut Tae his ain Christmas. Wit a puddin. the Liberals the Liberals the Whig that croons a baldy fermer on awsides he covets sheep o’er duvets does he keek Boss Hog Needs twa seats!
35 the drouth