To a Foulkes
So ye're gaun at last, ye Lairdly ferlie?Your impudence protect you sairly!'Tis time again for struttin' rarelyIn whitrat cape ~Geordie, ha' no fears o' dinin' sparelyIn sic a place!
Ye bumptious, waddlin', blastit scunner,Bletherskite, neep-heid, cloun an' sinner,Holyrood, ye set your rump upon Her ~Sae fine a Parlie!Gae somewhere else and seek your dinnerFrom some o'er Body!
Swith! To the Lunnon Parlie throttle:There ye may slurp, then sprawl, then sprattle,Wi' ither kindred Barons prattle;O'er laws and nations;Where votes nor proles ne'er dare unsettleYour scarlet plantations.
Pray haud you there! Ye're out o' sight,Wrapped in your ermines, snug an tight -Fie! Gob ye yet? Ye'll not be right,Till ye don it ~The vera tapmost, tow'rin KnightO' Thistle's bonnet!
Mebbe we'll mind your nose (absentee),As plump an' red as onie bramble;Or yearn for your most rascally o' rambles:We'll melancholically whoopee ~"O' for Eckbane, lost Clatterbag o' scandal!O' for flyter Foulksie!"
"O for a soul wha's bletheration reigns!"
Ye mind they Saltire paintit trains?
You owned your constipaitit pains
Agin 'em, in crabbit coonsel!
Yer eediocy boasts as many grains
As the desert, ye wabbit scoondrel!
Laird Jambo, dinna play the louseNor haste ye back tae our Parlie House;Tak' time your gizzard flames tae douse"Slàinte mhath" on baronial expensesWi' medicinal drams or ten o' Grouse ~Think o' political life in past tenses.
O wad some Power the gift tae gie youTo see yoursel' as ithers see you!It wad frae mony a blunder free you,An foolish notion:What gobshite airs an traits might leave you -Even Union devotion!
~ Robert Burns, on hearing that Labour MSP Lord George Foulkes would leave Holyrood in 2011 for the warmer climes of the Hoose o' Lords...
“What signifies the life o' Lairds, An' 'twere na for the glasses O"
ReplyDeleteForgive us Rab...
Empty grow the glasses, o';
ReplyDeleteEmpty grow the glasses o'
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend
Are spend among the glasses, O'?
My Laird, he has a red red nose
ReplyDeleteThat often runs in June
My Laird, he is a malady
Thank fuck he's goin soon
The Lairdie, discumnockerated at last!
ReplyDeleteI'm sure His Lordship is grateful for my memorialisation of his life. I'll earnestly await my thank you card on House of Lords stationary...
ReplyDeleteThe Dey of Auld Reeks, when afraid of his cheeks,
ReplyDeleteA messenger sent to our Court, sir,
As he knew in our State that the women had weight,
He chose one well hung for the sport, sir;
He searched the Divan, till he found out a man,
Whose b--l--ks were heavy and hairy,
And he lately came o'er, from auld Caledons shore,
As the great Plenipotentiary.
When to England he came, with his p-----k in a flame,
He shewed it his hostess on landing,
Who spread its renown thro' all parts of the town,
As a pintle past all understanding;
So much there was said of its snout and its head,
That they called it the great Janissary,
Not a lady could sleep, till she got a sly peep,
At the great Plenipotentiary,
As he rode in the coach, how the whores did approach,
And stared, as if stretched on a tenter,
He drew every eye of the dames that pass by,
Like the sun to its wonderful centre;
As he passed thro' the town not a window was down,
And the maids hurried out to the area,
The children cried, "Look, there's the man with the cock,
That's the great Plenipotentiary."
A rousing lyric, Mark. If that's the phrase...
ReplyDeleteI toyed with nine inches doth please a laddie, but felt it might be misinterpreted...
ReplyDeleteHeaven forfend! ;)
ReplyDelete