The Glasgow Laird

The drunk hogs the path where the public walks Then hogs the air with his nonsense talk His breath smells of ale His eyes look stale This Scottish male In a Scottish gale Just gets wet Along with his pet His unkempt dog As white as the fog Feeds him a chip Gives it some lip He thinks he is hip And knows it all That he's on the ball Then staggers and falls Can't walk but crawls On his all fours He doesn't care This Glasgow Laird Who thinks his world isn't fair For tomorrow he will call into the bank Take out some cash from the Governments tank Then he can go back to the house That will sell him more Guinness stout And stand outside on the same old street Where the cold will numb his directionless feet. Christmas shopping in Glasgow. 6 drunk men hogged the footpath in the cold rain. They didn't realise all the people who could get passed with getting soaked. Laird is a Scottish word, derived from "Lord". It is the owner of the property.