Jock Tamson Goes tae the Doactir

Jock sank intae his favourite seat, His armchair, saft an’ sturdy, Hert weary wi a problem That he dared na breathe a word eh.   He’d hud it noo fur quite some time But hoped that it wid heal, An’ … Continue reading

A Scot’s Lament fur her American Fellows (Oan their election of a tangerine gabshite walloper).

America, aw whit ye dain?! How could ye choose a clueless wain Ti lead yir country? Who wid trust A man sae vile?! A racist, sexist eedjit Wi a shite hairstyle? Yet lo, ye votit (michty me!) Ti hawn’ this … Continue reading