Ra Furst Date - Poem by PAUL COLVIN
He used his da’s razor to spruce up looks
It’s no easy task wi’ a face full o’ plooks
He cut a’ the heids aff an’ cried, the wee sook
Aye! Jist like his pals, that bunch o’ wee crooks.
A’ covered in plasters, a face like the moon
A furst rate disaster, he’s greetin’ in tune.
His eyes are rid raw an’ the tears still run doon,
They think they’re wee men but that’s a’ come too soon.
When yer a man a shave disnae maiter
But when yer fifteen wi’ a face full o’ craters
Ye know it’s no’ right so save it fur later,
That’s vanity’s prize fur a stupit furst dater!
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