when i got home from school
my mother was watching
oprah again
with a shopping bag
of ice on her knee
when i asked her
what happened
she said
“i dont want to talk about it”
and later i found out
she was working out
to a tae bo dvd
when her knee
popped out of her socket
and nobody was home
and she doesnt drive
and she had no friends
so she had to pop it
back into her socket
herself and she said
it was the worst day
of her life
The battles ower ,smoke settles ower the moor,
Clans are broken flying aff tae the hills.
Redcoated sodjers mingle with red Heilan blude,
Killing the wounded in Drumossie mud.
Oor Prince has fled leaving dreams in the dust,
Of a Stuart oan the throne that was oor lust,
like the heron scared of mans approach
fleeing his home being taen awa tae France.
Some say he was a bonnie lad cam frae italia way,
Heir tae the royale throne pretending tae be king,
Nae clue or fighting skill but the bonnie prince could sing.
Noo he was being led awa tae catch a boat tae tak him awa.
It was spoken of in tones hushed and still,
Ane day he wid return tae claim the throne,
Frae ower the watter oor king wid come,
Alang wi lairds cawed awa tae France.
© Andrew Provan McIntyre 2016-05-28
We're oan the march wi' Nicola's army
We're oan the road tae kingdom come
Nae matter whit the English dae
We're gonna hiv oor way
And fund Scotland wi' oor oil Elysium.
We're oan the road wi' Nicola's army
It's cheerio tae aw oor auld chums
For we're gonnae try oor luck
And we don't give a flyin' f**k
As we march alang tae independence drums.
We're oan the march wi' Nicola's army
Wi' Tommy's mob marchin' side by side
Noo Labour his loast the place
We will step up oor pace
And leave the UK wi' oor Scottish pride.
We're oan the march wi Nicola's army
As we dream aboot oor ain Macaliphate
Nae matter whit the English say
It's gonnae be oor day
As the EU welcomes oor brand new Scottish state.
She wid bustle aboot; she liked tae get oot,
did Annie.
She wis ayewis there; a breath o' fresh air,
wis Annie.
She had loads o' pals, laddies an' gals,
had Annie.
She wis aye guid fun, as bright as the sun,
dear Annie.
She wis awfy smert, wi' a great big hert,
wis Annie.
She'd pass ye by, wi' a twinkle in her eye,
wid Annie.
Whit a sad day when she passed away:
'Slangie' tae Annie. (A final toast)
Look up in the sky, she's pretty close by,
is Annie!
She'll watch oe'r you, nae maiter whit ye do,
will Annie.
She'll say, "no tae fret", noo that's a fair bet!
"Eh Annie!"