By Bob Smith.
Chynges ye maun embrace
Tis the cry o some developers
Union Street’ll recover it’s grace
Knights ridin’ ti the rescue
O oor eence bonnie toon
Their armour’s a bittie tarnished
Their motto is “Knock it doon”
Us billies ken fit should be deen
Is fit wer aywis hearin’
Mair o the same bliddy mess
Is fit gweed fowk are fearin’
Let’s aa think aboot their crack
“Oor plans will gie ye a boost”
Bit I’m feart it’s mair than likely
Gless an concrete will rule the roost
The toon’s already bein’ run
Bi chiels in pin strippit suit
The cooncil hisna got a clue
As the suits pick up the loot
“Ye’ll aa be better aff” they purr
If ye let us hae oor wye
Better ti trust Auld Nick himsel’
Than some faa are richt fly
Union Street’s fair doon trodden
An lookin’ like some auld crone
Caused by the lack o foresicht
An shops fit lower the tone
Lit the developers hae their wye
They wid seen ging ower the score
Instead o lookin like some auld hag
She micht turn oot a flashy whore
Gweed citizens o Aiberdeen
The ba’s in yer ain court
Tell the numpties faar ti ging
An their stupid plans abort
©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2010