Weel, colin man, ye’ve done us proud
Ye’ve plestered a’ the wa’s an’ a’
Ye’ve sprung fae in a b’low yer shroud
An’ flashed us wi yer whang an’ a’
An’ mushrooms rare ye didnae spare
Until oor very een were sare
Wi kittlin’ skits this day
But feminists aroon the globe
Are writhing wi their wrath an’ a
An’ probably there’ll be a probe
Wi’ bile an’ much anathema
Yer rhymes are ripe fer getting sockt
Yer tool’s in line fer getting’ dockt
In whittlin’ fits this day
An’ aye it seems there come the day
Whun structured rhymers, scribes an’ a’
Must realise it’s time tae slay
Some ither fiends some ither whar
Ye’ve fed us foo on Aussie prose
Wi chittlin whits ye passed as brose
Never-endin’ly this lang day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
On debate dot org - and perhaps elsewhere - the merits of Colin Leslie Dean's poetry has been discussed, and the above lines have been brought up as if they were written in praise of his work, when the very reverse is true. There are clues aplenty to this effect in them - even the title has one - and there is also the extended discussion in the same vein that took place on the poetics forum regarding Dean's work, where it was subjected to much savage critiquing. His arithmetical claims were also effectively and justifiably dismissed.