Rab Wilson: Whit wey's the wuin blawn?

Syne Cameron flung it aa away,

He bet his shirt oan ae big play,

        An’s tint it aa,

Aa nae dout friens he rues the day,

        They burst his baw!

He’s no the type tae lead wir sodgers,

Wha cuidnae keep his hoose in order!

He caved in tae backbench marauders,

        An caa’d a vote –

They stabbed him fore and aft, the traitors,

        Syne sank his boat!

Sae nou puir Dave is aa at sea,

Where sharks aa circle fir their tea,

There’s May an Johnson, baith agree,

        Their dearest howp’s

Tae steer a ship they watcht wi glee,

        Crash oan the rocks!

Fir Project Fear’s nou Project Farce,

Whaur nou is Boris Johnson’s brass?

He cannae rise up aff his arse,

        Tae fix his mess,

Saund trickles throu his hour-glass,

        Time’s up ah guess?

UKIP’s Farage stoked up fowk’s fears,

That nou sees racist taunts an jeers,

Stalk oor streets an reduce tae tears,

        Puir migrant fowks,

Wha cam frae wars we engineered;

        In sairch o howp.

The social network skraichs its lees,

Frae monkeys in the ‘Twitter’ trees,

Vile racists sayin ‘Go home please.’

        Tae daicent fowk,

Rants frae this laithfu subspecies,

        Wid gie’s the boak!

An Labour husnae sorrows tae seek,

UK gangs bust, within a week,

The knives are oot, back-stabbin cliques,

        Aim fir Corbyn,

‘Et tu Hilary’ – wha’d mak ye seeck!

        Judas vermin!

Careerist Labour politicians,

Ilk wan determined oan their mission,

Their pairty an the people dissin’,

        Snouts in the troch!

The ‘gravy train’ is aa their wishin,

        Tae climb abuird!

But ah’ll gie Jezza Corbyn his due,

His principles are guid an true,

An fowk lik him these days are few,

        Whiles ae thing mair;

The members decide wha leads thaim nou,

        No Tony Blair!

Whiles Jezza’s stats did bear the gree,

The pruif is there fir aa tae see,

Margins the same as the SNP,

        Ah’m no kiddin!

Gin anely Tory voters agreed,

        Tae dae Dave’s biddin!

Sae in order tae avoid the Burroo,

Dae thaim Jez; afore they dae you!

Sic vicious cantrips is naethin new,

        Doun at Westminster,

Select yer ain team; tried an true,

        An fecht yer corner!

Nou mind me oan Dave, is it true,

Scotland wid hae tae lea the EU,

Gin we voted no tae bide wi you,

        Thon’s whit ye said,

Yer flush is busted ah’ll avow,

        Yer haund’s bin played.

Gove, IDS an big ‘Baw-Jaws’,

Oan TV nou they hum n’ haw,

Cause they’ve no goat a clue ava,

        Oan whit tae dae,

They’ve ‘kicked-the-can’ an rin awa,

        The truth tae say!

Sae aa the goalposts hae bin muived,

An Dave, likesay, his plan nou rues,

Whiles rats line up tae fill his shoes,

        True-blue dastards,

Luik ower yer shooder, ye’ll fin thaim queue;

        John Major’s ‘bastards!’

Whiles puir auld England’s bin gien a fricht,

‘Two fir wan’ deals at Iceland the nicht!

Wayne Rooney gies his een a dicht,

        Him an his team,

They cuidnae e’en gie doors a kick –

        At Halloween!

Aye, Blue or Rid, they tak a staw,

When haein a swatch ower Hadrian’s Wa,

An seein a team that ane an aa,

        Play fir each ither,

Nae cracks in oor defence ava,

        We pu’ thegaither!

The SNP hae cocked their lugs,

Nou here’s a gift – an we’re nae mugs,

We waant nae troke wi UKIP thugs,

        Or ‘Britain First’

It’s time agane tae pu’ the rug,

        An lift this curse!

That’s held us back fir centuries,

Fir Scotia ettles tae be free,

O aa thur richt-wing fascist lees,

        That robbed us blin,

We’ll gie the ‘ballot box’ a heize –

        An this time win!

Whiles in the House we hae Wee Eck,

Wha hus the guile, the nous, the neck,

Their referendum plans tae wreck,

        An say ‘No ta!’

Syne rowe their tails as Tories geck,

        An shout ‘Boo-Yah!’

Ah thocht they needit oor permission?

Wis that no in the Smith Commission?

Or’s somethin here ah’m mibbes missin?

        They’d us befool,

Thon’s a promise they’ll no be keepin;

        They bend the rules!

Jist like the time they prentit ‘The Vow’,

Lik snaw aff the dyke, whaur is it now?

Sunk athoot trace friens ah’ll avow,

        An empty curn,

We’d bin as weel tae set it alowe,

        An watch it burn!

That UK whaur we voted tae bide,

Nou’s waasht awa bi history’s tide,

An Scots wid raither no reside,

        In it nae mair,

We’ll tak oor ‘independent minds’,

        An gang elsewhere!

The anniversary o Bannockburn,

An things hae taen an orra turn,

Odds stacked agin us – yet we won!

        An still micht win,

Aa bets are aff, nou we’se return,

        Tae canvassing!

Sturgeon’s haund oan the tiller’s firm,

She disnae bauchle wirds or squirm,

She hus a vision that glents an glims,

        An’s within grasp,

The sails o Scotia’s ship are trimmed,

        Set fir the task.

Aince mair tae the breach fir Scotland’s sake,

That prize we loast is there tae take,

In twa years time we wull awake,

        Tae a laund set free,

The drouth o freedom friens we’ll slake,

        Baith you an me.

Rab Wilson is a poet and activist