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The ship’s sunk noo &
am the wun that sunk it,
ah pottid a red baw, well
fa’d huv thunk it.
summr oan the dole, &
ol the troch I stole
ol the junk I sold, when
I was not that old
it was summr oan the dole
Fit goes on roun here,
ahv haff a mind tae cheer,
ma usual wares don’t care,
ma boot’s ay ful’ ae spares
on mornings wie the squares.
Tak oot the new binocs,
the 2nd pairae socks,
eyespy a bow & ox.
Aince ah park the van,
let’s see fa shid be bannd,
& how’s about thir mony
clingirs on, for a psalm
fulla praise, not a song.
A manny on a chute,
a billy on the lute,
10 squirrels huvn fun,
a muntir wie a gun.
Wissit jist the same, or
jist sum thug’s new game,
except ma leg’s in pain.
Is yon the dweeb in charge,
sum 10 a penny Sarge,
peer Stan fair blew up large,
ahl hae tae ask oor Marge,
fa’s next up to be blasted in the sun
or stude on a mountain, gitn stung,
by midges on the make,
takn doun yer licence plate
till thir een ging dim, Tuesday night
in the flickrin candilabra light.