Hogmanay Hangover Poem by Barry Weedon

(Or - If you twist my arm, a Gordon's for me)

When the good Lord created bonnie Scotland
It's hard to fathom out his state of mind;
He made lochs and braes and heather -
Then He made the bonnie weather -
So perhaps he wasn't feeling very kind.

He made a land of wondrous natural beauty -
Royal Deeside, Glen Morangie, Cowdenbeath -
A land of milk and honey -
But a trifle short of money -
So he kindly tacked on England underneath.

To enjoy this land the good Lord made the Scotsman,
With bristly knees, a sporran and a dirk.
He made lassies and good whisky -
But, seeing that was risky,
To look after them he made the kindly Kirk.

The Scotsman has an eye for nature's bounty -
With swelling heart his native hills he scans -
And he takes a special pride
That he manages to hide
In every glen a pile of lager cans.

God gave you vast indigenous resources -
Even oil on the Continental Shelf -
And you're quick enough to shout
For foreign help to get it out
But you want to keep the profits for yourself.
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Ye're all damned, the lot o' ye!
Ye'll all go doon tae Hell -
And rot wi' Episcopalians
And Catholics - aye - and Englishmen as well!

And ye'll cry to the Lord for forgiveness -
'O Lord, what did we do?
We didna' ken' and God in all his mercy
Will smile and say 'Oh aye? Well ye ken noo! '