By Bob Smith.
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Fowk hiv the God gien richt
Ti exist an ti be fair free
Ti bide ony place they wint
In the hills or near the sea
The richt ti bide in a placie
Enjoyin life an fit it brings
Nae bullied by rich buggers
Faa wint ti pull the strings
Nae ti be telt yer in the wye
An maun dance ti the tunes
O a chiel faa’s only thocht
Is biggin on shiftin dunes
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Nae ti be telt move yer erse
So’s a ribbon o tar is built
Nae ti be telt yer a nimby
Nor ti feel the haun o guilt
The richt ti think democracy
Is alive an still his breath
The richt ti hae a bittie say
Aboot fit’s happenin on iss earth
The richt ti nae dee the biddin
O Trumpie,Widdie an thon bankers
The richt ti stick twa fingers up
Ti aa gadgies ye think are w-nkers
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© Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2011
