The old man looked up, glasses on head
Sitting in his own chair, by the fireplace.
Aye, I know what you want to do, he said
As he went to the table, and cleared a space.
'Don't you worry', the weatherman said,
'There is no hurricane coming tonight'
The dreadful sounds would awake the dead,
Poor old Michael, you didn't get that right
(With apologies to Billy Joel's 'We didn't start the fire')
Hot day, seaside town, party ‘til the sun goes down,
Rollercoaster, Ghost Train, Punch and Judy's on again,
The pipes sound, wailing and skirling,
Heather clad glens come into view,
Snowy peaks dot the horizon.
What will become of Scotland
What if Alex gets his way
Will independence be the answer
Or will Scotsmen rue the day