William Wallace 1270 - 1305 Poem by Nick John Whittle

Oh, victory, be ours!
Hush, it will be! Can you sense it?
Against the cheek, against the knee, and elsewhere.
What about against the lobes of our ears of corn?
What corn? It is all eaten
By English mice and the bourgeoisie
To make them stronger and sleep better at night.
But we'll wait as long as it takes
With tough feet, strong backs and deep throats.
So sound the horn and giggle freely
When the dental floss cartridge runs empty,
Because we slay the oppressors against their will,
And in so doing mess up their hair.
The time will come but only when backs are turned
And we have our Income Support cheque and cigarettes,
Then with sour breath and crabs we will make war.
Though we will gurgle, we are a tempest
And care much for owls and bats, also water voles.
Brave Moray, despite his resemblance to a bedside lamp
Is a fair warrior and faithful friend.
Though his pockets are now empty,
He treads one foot forward and then another
To what taller men call a ‘march',
And our army follows, one foot then another
Until we run fresh out of foot.
Sharing determination, philosophy and haggis
We are one and all!
Civilization is shaped like a circle and repeats itself;
We will make our civilization rhomboid
That is, with no line of symmetry.
Then can we rejoice…
In freedom!

(From Codd's Wallop for the Soul)