One for Burns' Night.
Lifted from Readers comments. (Guardian)(following John Crace article)
RollOuttheIzal
2 hours ago
While Hancock’s left to at least give the impression of turning up for work, Johnson’s non-essential vanity trips — plus the daily dip into the dressing-up box — may keep tabloid picture editors busy, but his crusading jaunt to Scotland will only result in yet further derision for his abject nakedness. I’m sure The Bard would find some words…
Address to a Boris
Awa’ wi’ yer lyin’, pudgy face
Chief conman o the Tory race
Aw silver spuin, a waste o space (all) (spoon)
Aw tripe, nae guts.
Ye’re soon tae pay fur the disgrace
Of yer cruel cuts.
Yer groanin’ trencher there ye fill (plate)
Yer hurdies like twa dimpled hills (backside, buttocks)
Yer plate wad hulp to feed a million
Weans in need. ( deprived children)
While thro yer press whores lies still spill
Like choukie feed. (chicken feed)
Yer lies gie Covid patients fright
We mind yer ev’ry glaikit slight (remember) (gormless)
When trenchin’ breathless corpses tight (burying)
In unmarked ditch.
And ye? O whit a hideous sight
Cake-reekin, rich.
In hi-viz jaikit, coupon buffed (face)
Hard hat, hair-net, a mop, chest puffed
Ye dinnae care yer country’s stuffed
By old schuil chums. (Old Etonians)
Fuid rots in docks yet ye’ve enough (food)
Tae glut yer gums.
While ye trough thro yer French ragout (eat)
Or olio that wad burst a coo (cow)
It’s neeps and tatties in oor stew
We’re keepin’ thinner.
Yet ye sit sneerin’, scornfu’ too
Wi’ ten course dinner.
Poor “Boris” thocht he’d be World King
Wi’ peasants kissin’ his gowd ring (gold)
But noo he lives oan a shoestring (references to his claim
He’s charged fur fuid! not to be able to manage on his PM's
And maintenance fur his offspring! salary)
Nae bluidy guid!
Pure feart o lassies, men and boys (frightened)
Yon Tories plot tae droun the noise (drown)
Of true control, of fair free choice
Fur independence.
Oor sov’rinty yields not oor vyce (voice)
Tae yer “acceptance”.
Conmen, wha mak free folk thair slave
Unite us mair oor land tae save (more)
New Scotland’s soon tae rule her wave
Tae reach new glories.
Be safe, oor southern pals, be brave:
Just ditch the Tories.
