today i met a tiny gran
all the way from Troon
looking too meet a man
she was a right old loon
wearing a Stewart kilt
shorter than mini skirt
she was full of guilt
then began to flirt
'look at me Gutties
look at me diddies
look at my Spondoolies
now i want me tatties'
her Scottish accent
it was very harsh
quickly i did relent
picking tatties by the marsh
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem