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The Laird O Menie’s Fules

Mar 212013

By Bob Smith.

Lord McCluskey his recommendit
We shud regulate Scottish press
Iss his caused a richt ballyhoo
Fae Stranraer up tae Stromness

The press maun hae freedom
Tae tell us aa fit’s fit
Bit ower mony o oor tabloids
Jist print a load o shit

The SNP is noo thinkin
O publishin it’s ain paper
Mony fowk are nae in favour
O iss propaganda caper

The opeenion column o the P&J
His been caain fer democracy
Thoosans o fowk wull be laachin
Aboot their bliddy hypocrisy

Aa iss fae oor local paper
Faa’s bias tae Trump’s weel kent
Yet views fae Tripping up Trump
They widna pit intae print

“Traitors” bawled the “Evenin Express”
At the cooncillors faa voted no
Fin Trump’s application wis thrown oot
“EE” condemnation wisna slow

A paper’s voice maan be heard
As lang’s they play bi the rules
An nae be thocht o nation wide
As “The Laird o Menie’s Fules”

Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013

Nae Vision

Creative Writing, Opinion No Responses »

Mar 142013

By Bob Smith.

Jist hae a leuk, at the bliddy great plook
On the face o Aiberdeen toon
St Nicholas Hoose, nae langer in use
Thunk hivvens it’ll seen be knocked doon
.
It’s nae the only een, fit’s tae be seen
Aroon oor gweed city o granite
Union Square a confess, is jist concrete an gless
Mair suited tae an alien planet
.
We hiv shoppin malls, fer young guys an gals
Their shops ye can fin ony place
We hid the Co-opie arcade, wi units ready made
It disappeared withoot ony trace
.
Tak the New Market, wi wa’s fit are barkit
A biggin fit’s lost it’s soul
Knock the place doon, richt tae the foon
It’s nae langer fit fer it’s role

Iss toon o oors, destroyed bi sum boors
Faa’s ideas hiv stepped oot o line
Silver City by the sea, twixt Don an the Dee
His fair lost some o it’s shine
.
Architects wi nae vision, attractin derision
Shud be pit in Castlegate stocks
It shud be their plight, tae be peltit wi shite
Syne throw awa the keys o the locks
.
Planners tae hiv gin mad, iss is affa sad
It’s time tae tak them tae task
Tak back oor cities, fae thae Walter Mittys
Iss surely is nae much tae ask.
.
Reclaimin the toon, iss wid be a boon
Nae langer run bi Acsef an freens
Ordinary fowk hiv mair say, tae ensure fair play
Fin it cums tae spendin “the beans”

Bob Smith”The Poetry Mannie” 2013

Peace And Quiet

Creative Writing, Opinion No Responses »

Mar 072013

By Bob Smith.

Div ye lang fer peace an quiet
In iss modern warld o oors
Fin noise is aa aroon us
The silence it fair soors
.
Ye gyang intae a shoppie
Winrin jist fit tae buy
Yer lugs are seen bombardit
Bi Rihanna or yon McFly
.
Ye meet a freen fer a chat
In some funcy coffee hoose
Ye fin yersel suroondit
Bi mobile users on the loose
.
Waak doon the main street
In ony o oor gweed toons
Music blarin oot the windaes
O cars driven bi bliddy goons

Pubs turn up the music din
So fowk canna hae a newse
The purpose is a think
Tae mak fowk buy mair booze
.
Peace an quiet ye can fin
If in the hills ye waak
Ye marvel at the silence
An nae hae yakkity yak
.
A wis brocht up on a fairm
Twa mile fae the main road
Peace and quiet wis aa aroon
As aboot the parks a strode
.
So maybe a wis lucky
Tae ken fit quairtness wis
Unlike fowk in toon cinters
Faa can only fume an fizz

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013

Image – River in the Evening.
©Angela Davis | Dreamstime Stock Photos

The Wireless

Creative Writing, History 1 Response »

Feb 282013

By Bob Smith.

The Wireless ah the memories
O listenin fin I wis a loon
On dark winters nichts roon the fire
Oor Ecko radio it sure wis a boon
.
There wis Dick Barton Special Agent
Fa took on aa the baddies
It fair sharpened the imagination
O fowk like us as laddies
.
Paul Temple an ace dectective
As weel as yon PC49
Solvin aa the nations crimes
Their adventures I likit fine
.
Fin I wis a bittie younger
Tammy Troot wis aa the rage
His escapades in the river
Held yer attention for an age
.
Setterday nicht jist efter tea
Ye sat an listen’t ti the story
O a Glesga faimily’s daily lives
The McFlannels wis nivver gory

Scottish Dance Music we aye likit
Wi Jimmy Shand an Adam Rennie
Their bands hid ye tappin yer feet
Jimmy an Adam were twa o’ many
.
Sports Report on the Licht Programme
Gied ye aa the fitba scores
Ye hid reports on the horse racin
As weel as Oxford an Cambridge rowers
.
Jet Morgan an his grand adventures
In the programme “Journey Into Space”
Hid ye jumpin up an doon
Wid he vanish withoot a trace
.
Comedy shows like Take It From Here
Wid hae ye laachin loud an lang
The Goons hid ye in stitches ti
Wi their funny “Ying Tong” sang
.
Their wis ither delights on the radio
Faar ower mony ti write doon
This his bin jist a flavour
O the wireless fin I wis a loon

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2010

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The Whaup

Creative Writing, Environment No Responses »

Feb 212013

By Bob Smith.

The whaup. Ma faavrit bird
wi its maist hauntin soon
a soond aat is embedded
sin i wis jist a loon

wi connach aa its habitat
its feedin gruns wi invade
wi really cwidna care a jot
as human arrogance wi parade

wi drain maist o oor weetlans
wi trumple doon oor grasses
why maan wi use up oor lan
jist tae satisfy the masses

we maan leave the whaup some space
fer it breedin an fer feedin
ere’s plenty room fer aa o us
if wi stop ayewis bliddy needin

Potholes

Creative Writing, Opinion No Responses »

Feb 082013

By Bob Smith.

The roddies in oor toon
Are in an affa kirn
Potholes aa ower the place
Street surfaces nae aat firm
.
Potholies o a descripshun
Fae kypies tae big craters
Gettin fowk aa weel vexed
Be they teachers or roof slaters
.
The cooncil is cash strappit
O iss we ken richt weel
Iss is nae consolation
Tae a bodie wi a connach’t wheel
.
Noo some potholes richt aneuch
Hiv bin patched bi the “tarry gang”
Bit wi bad wither an the traffic
Iss disna laist ower lang
.
The potholes are a menace
Wi aa the trouble they bring
Be it a puncture o a tyre
Or much worse – a broken spring

Siller fer the Aiberdeen bypass
It seems cooncillors can trot oot
Yet lots o toonsers winna benefit
Jist the fowk fae oot aboot
.
The ceetizens o Aiberdeen are telt
The 21st ceentury we maan embrace
Yet the potholes in oor toon
Hiv geen cooncillors a richt reid face
.
Lits aa noo jist hae a think
Aboot roddies aa ower the city
Spen some o the AWPR bawbees
On potholes fit are richt shitty
.
So cooncillors sit doon an think
O the troubles potholes cause
Dinna pit iss aff nae mair
Grab the problem bi the ba’s
.
O coorse there cwid be
Anither wye fit is best
Jist cut doon on car usage
An the roads micht langer laist

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Spikkin Doric

Aberdeenshire, Creative Writing No Responses »

Feb 022013

By Bob Smith.

A’ve ayewis spak the Doric
Sin a wis jist a loon
A dialect still weel loo’d
Fae the Spey tae Bervie toon

Fin a wis at the local skweel
In classrooms it wis banned
Ye were threatened wi the scud
Fit wid hae wairmed yer hand

Bit eence oot in the playgrun
It flowed oot o yer moo
An wi yer freens an neipers
Doric wisna thocht taboo

We canna lit iss language dee
It’s pairt an paircel o oor lan
The Doric an the North east
They aye gyang han in han

A’m loathe tak in fit a’m hearin
Young fowk canna say “ch” as in loch
Fit’s the warld cumin tae
If ye canna git yer tongue aroon roch?

Doric wirds are mair expressive
Than onything else ye micht hear
Thunk hivvens fowk still spik it
In kwintra placies like New Deer

The braw wird “dreich” a like
Instead o jist sayin “dull”
Or maybe gyaan “heelster-gowdie”
As ye tummle doon a hull

Robbie Shepherd he still spiks it
An a Doric sang he’ll sing
Sin the days o “The Garlogie Fower”
Iss chiel’s bin the Doric “king”

Lits aa fecht fer the Doric
Hae it taacht in aa the skweels
Instead o aa the lah-de-dahs
Thinkin the Doric is fer feels

Dunes, Goons & Bliddy Buffoons

Aberdeenshire, Satire and Humour No Responses »

Jan 242013

By Bob Smith.

Menie’s a mess,
A hiv tae confess
Trumpie’s coorse his an extra hole
Near the 4th tee,
Fit a tae dee
Mither Naitur his noo teen her toll
.
A’m nae aat surprised,
The chiel wis advised
Nae tae meddle wi the shiftin sands
Trump stuck oot his chest,
Sayin a ken fit’s best
Bit watter’s teen things oot his hans
.
Like King Canute,
The Donald fun oot
Watter it aye his the last say
If yer drains are nae gweed,
An they stairt tae ”bleed”
Wee burns they flow like the Tay
.
Noo a wee narra road,
Tae the Munro’s abode
Is churned up wi mud an potholes
Efter larries fae afar,
Hid roched up the tar
Ye’d think there’d bin an invasion o moles

Amang aa the dunes,
Lurk Trumpie’s big goons
They mak yer waak richt fractious
Fin they div folla,
Ower hump an holla,
An maybe use ye as target practice
.
It’s plain tae see,
Aat the orra numptie
Hisna heard o the “Richt tae roam”
Wull The Donald desire,
Tae erect barbed wire
As at the mooth he dis foam
.
So Trumpie ma freen,
If advice ye’d teen
An the shiftin dunes ye’d by-passed
Aathing micht hae bin fine,
If ye’d shifted the line
O yer gowf coorse a wee bittie wast
.
Bit fowk like yersel,
Fowk nivver can tell
So Donald ye’ll learn the hard wye
Mither Naitur she rules,
Ower eejits an fules
An fowk faa think they’re richt fly.

Ceetizen Journalism

Aberdeen City, Opinion No Responses »

Jan 182013

By Bob Smith.

If ye didna ken afore
Ye need tae read the A.V.
Tae ken fit’s really happ’nin
In the toon twixt Don an Dee

The P&J gies ye ae side
O a story there’s nae doot
Bit tae read anither side
A doot ye wull miss oot

The “EE” it is the same
Div fowk read it onymair?
The airt o democratic reportin?
They hiv fair lost the flair

Baith ower canny wi their print
A coordy custard approach detected
Ad. revenue they maan protect
Big business views aye reflected

Ceetizen journalism’s on the mairch
Wi the Aiberdeen Voice tae the fore
Maist o the mainstream media
Are noo classed as bein a bore

Times they hiv moved on
Fae the days o ink an quill
Bit some fowk in oor toon
Wull fecht fer democracy still

So tho yer nine or ninety
An fer truth ye div aspire
AV shud be yer readin
Ither local media are dire

Fantasy Predicshuns Fer 2013

Aberdeen City, Satire and Humour No Responses »

Jan 142013

By Bob Smith.

Lit me say richt awa,there wull be blue sna
Afore ma fantasy predicshuns cum richt
Bit lit us aa pray, there wull cum a day
Fin warld poverty’s nae langer in sicht

The Donald wull state,”Michael Forbes a’ll nae hate”
“An at winfairms a’ll nae hae a glower”
Afore is cums true, naebody’ll be on the broo
An hell itsel wull freeze ower

The Dons’ll aye win, their fan’s wull aye grin
In Europe Man Utd they’ll crush
Their play wull be racy, fin they sign Lionel Messi
An the green an white hordes they wull hush

Gaza Strip wull hae peace,an Israelies they’ll cease
Tae bigg on Palestinian grun
Fowk wull feel better, an guns winna maitter
An fae shell’s young bairns winna run

In oor Aiberdeen,the cooncil cums clean
An tells us aa fit’s gyaan on
Nae diggers wull dig tae bigg a new brig
Throwe the streets o puir Tillydrone

Sir Ian wull depart, in the puff o a fart
Wi his 50 odd million in a hurry
He’ll dee much mair gweed, if Africa’s hungry he’ll feed
An aboot webs an gairdens nae worry

Fit the future micht be, we’ll jist wait an see
Wull ony fantasy predicshuns cum true?
If only een wis fulfilled, a wid be richt thrilled
So a’m hopin the sna wull turn blue

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