An Ode Tae Tinder

Hiy you. Aye, you! Are you alone?

Do you sit waitin’ by the phone?

Huv aw yir dreams eh birds an’ bees

Burnt tae a cinder?

Well whit yi dain, ya styoopit boy,

Yi heard eh Tinder?

It’s lik sunshine fur the soul,

If settlin’ doon’s no quite yir goal,

An’ aw yi huv ti dae is swipe

Until yi fin’ her:

A durty lassie seekin’ fun;

Yir iy a winner.

She’s eager lik yiv never seen,

Noo wait until she kens yir keen;

Within a bit you’ll match up

An’ you’ll know jist when

Tae hit her wi a “Whit’s up?”

Or an “Awryt hen?”

She’ll reply: “Am gid, how’s you?”

She’ll be polite but see it through;

Her profile said: “Nae strings attached”;

She’s free an’ flirty.

Soon you’ll be in the Aldi car park

Wae this durty.

It’s time tae act, turn up the heat,

An’ ask her when she’s free tae meet,

Perhaps she’ll pit her dinner doon

An’ come the noo;

Right tae yir door, claes oan the floor –

Her wee pal too.

The poassibilites are great,

Wi Tinder thir’s nae need tae wait,

Yi’ll wunner how yi ever goat aloang

Afore it.

Git aw the lassies in yir drawers –

Yi’ll jist adore it.

It’s fun fur aw (you an’ yir maw!)

Nae need ti leave yir hoose at aw;

Wi Tinder yir the King eh instant

Satisfaction.

It’s jist the ticket when yir wahntin’

Fast attraction.

Yet, smashin’ as it aw appears,

Yir Tinder fun may end in tears,

If boastin’ eh yir prowess turns

Yir wee hert cauld

An’ naught but hawf oor love affairs

Sterts gettin’ auld.

Awch, whit ‘ma sayin’?

Yir jist a man;

Yiv years an’ years tae fin’ ‘the wan’!

Cast caution tae the wind aloang wi

Inhibition.

Swipe till yiv hud the whole toon roon’

If that’s yir mission.

Third Degree Burns

If Burns had been alive today

I often wunner whit he’d say;

Wid he be unco proud tae ca’

Himsel’ a Scot

Or would he see a land

Where decency’s forgot?

 

Wid he be proud o’ Scotland noo

Tae witness things that some folk do:

Runnin ither buddies doon

Wi herts so cold,

Condemning folk fur things 

Outwith their ane control?

 

Wid Burns look on the Brexiteers

An’ run tae join them In their jeers

Of “refugees go hame,

We dinnae want ye here”,

Or wid he write o’ their sma’ minds

Wi rage sincere?

 

I rather think that Burns wid greet

Tae see the hameless oan the street

An’ see folk walkin’ by them

Wae contemptuous malice

While worshippin’ some family

Livin’ in a palace.

 

Wid he still write “a man’s a man”

See’n poverty across the land

An’ aw the super wealthy

Livin’ life tax free

While wee weans freeze cause maw can’t pay

The heatin’ fee?

 

Wid he still staun fur ‘Auld Land Syne’

Right next tae them an’ sing the lines:

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot”

An’ take their hands

If he kent o’ their hatred

T’ward their fellow man?

 

If Burns could see the bigotry,

Intolerance an’ cruelty

Directed at oor neeburs,

Feart an’ far fae hame,

Wid he no weep tae see his country

Brought tae shame?

 

The man who spoke o’ gratefu’ prayer

An’ treatin’ fellow men wi care

Wid see a refugee as but 

A brer long lost

An’ listen tae the tales o’

Every sea they’d crossed.

 

He’d bile wae rage tae read The Sun,

An’ racist vitriol it’s spun,

Drippin’ doon its poison 

Tae the brain-deid masses

An’ makin’ Tory voters o’

The workin’ classes.

 

An’ if Burns heard the BBC

He’d never pay his licence fee –

He’d no pay fur propaganda,

Spin an’ lies,

He’d staun an’ tell us aw

Tae open up our eyes.

 

Robert Burns wid sure detest

The wiy his country’s been oppressed;

Forced doon a path that cuts us aff

Fae neeburs, freens 

He’d want Scotland free again

By any means.

 

So, in Burns’ name, let’s join thegither,

Extendin’ friendship tae each ither;

Scotland welcomes wan an’ a’

Let’s make it clear:

Nae maitter where ye come fae

You are welcome here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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