Jan 192012
 

By Bob Smith.

Ma birthday’s in a fyow days time
Anither ‘ear it bites the dust
Noo ae present a wid affa like
In fact iss een wid be a must
.
A day withoot ony Eurozone news
Een free fae aa doom an gloom
A day fin the financial mairkets
Are nae beamed ti ma livin room
.
A time free o news o the FTSE
Or foo the DAX is deein the day
A time fin a dinna hae ti hear
A country’s drappit fae a triple A
A day fin the mairket prices
Are nae seen as a holy grail
A day free fae bliddy economists
Haein a greet an a bit o a wail
.
Nae Cameron, Sarkozy or Merkel
Tryin ti tell us aa fit needs deein
A day fin we can enjoy oorsels
An nae listen ti the buggers aa leein
.
So TV moguls an Press barons
Tak heed o iss puir mannie’s plea
Jist gie us aa a gweed present
A day we bide Eurozone free

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2012
Image Credit © Andy Brown | Dreamstime.com

Jan 062012
 

By Bob Smith.

 

The fracturin o the earth
Ti release fit’s ca’ed shale gas
The gadgie faa thocht iss up
Micht be seen as a “frackin” ass

Sma earth tremors hiv bin felt
In Lancashire,the red rose coonty
It’s noo bin pruv’d ayont a doot
The frackin iss wis doon ti

Maist o the “frackin” drillers
Hiv PR fowk faa div us tell
The process – it’s safe as hooses
An aathing is jist “frackin” swell

Noo masel am nae sae sure
In the USA there is great ire
Wi methane gas fair leakin
Fowk settin tap watter on fire

Chemicals  are used in iss caper
We dinna ken faar they micht leak
If they lan in the waater aquifers
The ootlook wull be richt bleak

Fin borin awa deep in the grun
Doon 20,000 fitt they can gyang
Wi maybe escapin gas gyaan aboot
Iss micht end wi a “frackin” big bang

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2011
Image Credit © Paul Gibbings | Dreamstime.com

Dec 272011
 

By Bob Smith.

Anither ear it nears it’s eyn
Faar dis the time gyang tull
It seems jist like the ither day
Ma fusky gless wis full

Full ti toast the cummin ear
An listen ti the bells a-ringin
Fowk gyaan aroon the streets
Auld Lang Syne they war singin

Scots aa ower iss warld o oors
Wull seen raise a gless or twa
Ti fowk back hame in auld Scotia
Fin fae faimily they’re far awa

Hogmanay is close eence again
A time ti reflect on fit’s been
A time ti think back ower the ear
An raise a gless ti an absent freen

A time tho’ ti look forrit
Ti enjoy life an hae some fun
A time ti gie thanks ti yer Makker
Aat yer still abeen the grun

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2011. Image Credit © Piotr Majka | Dreamstime.com

Dec 212011
 

By Bob Smith.


Christmas Eve in the 1940s
A myn o’t as tho’ twis last nicht
The livin room fire wis aye bleezin
An aathing wis bonnie an bricht

Paper chines hung fae the ceilin
An slap bang in the cinter a bell
Ti a wee loon in short troosers
Aathing  jist lookit richt swell

A Christmas tree wi didna hae
Oor roomies they war ower sma
Bit wi plunty o ither decorations
Aa nivver gied iss a thocht ava

A’d scriven ma letter ti Suntie
An sint it awa up the lum
An if he micht lave fit a wintit
Losh he wid fair be ma chum

On Christmas Eve on the wireless
Carol singin ma mither thocht braw
Good King Wenceslas he look’t oot
Aa he saw roon aboot wis sna

Ma lang sock a wid lave hingin up
It wis peened ti the muntelpiece
An ower aside the fireplace grate
Fer Suntie a’d lave a fine piece

Awa ti yer bed ma mither wid say
Suntie disna cum tull yer sleepin
Nae argument noo fae you a’ll hear
Or maybe yer present he’ll be keepin

 

Fae ma bedroom winda a peered oot
Ti see Suntie’s reindeer in the sky
Bit nae maitter foo lang a lookit
They nivver wid cum wanner’n by

On Christmas morn a hash’t ben
Ti see if ma letter hid bin heeded
A aye wis maist affa feart ye see
Maybe Suntie he cwidna read it

Afore ma verra een there wis
A widden boat ye pulled on wheels
Made a fun oot in later eers
By een o oor local chiels

Stappit in the lang sock ye’d fin
An orange an a fyow chocs
A  drawin book fer ti colour in
Wi crayons in a braw box

Christmas it wis a time fer bairns
Growen ups they preferred Hogmanay
Bit wi the kids o yesteryear they bade
Aroon the fire on a caul Christmas Day

Noo fowk  awa back in the forties
Didna hae  the siller ti splash oot
Bit bairns they war mair contintit
Than eens nooadays a’ve nae doot

.
.
.
© Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2011

Dec 152011
 

By Bob Smith.

Listen ti the havers fae Trumpie MK 2
Oot o his mou iss wirdies did spew
Treated richt badly  an wi contempt says he
Disrespect an dishonour? Seems aat ti

Noo the windfairm folkies widna be cowed
Fin Trump an his cohorts shouted oot loud
So young Donnie he fair squeals an bawls
Seems nae aabody wints ti be their pals

Contempt, dishonour, he shud ken aboot iss
A think the young chiel is takin the piss
The fowk ower in Menie’ll be haen a cheer
Nae sympathy vote fae them ye’ll hear

Contempt an dishonour they’ve hid fae his faither
As ti oor local press the big mannie dis blether
Disrespect ti the faimilies auld Trumpie his shown
Fin he disna like the wye thingies are goin

Potty an kettle, iss wirds spring ti myn
As Donald Mk2 his teeth he dis grind
Ye haun it oot so man ye canna complain
If it cums back ti haunt ye noo an again

So greet in yer porritch Donnie ma loon
An jist dinna bither ti kick up a soon’
Fin contempt an sic like cums in bye
Jist myn o the fowk ye’ve treated iss wye

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2011
© Mark Rasmussen | Dreamstime.com …. 3 windmills

Dec 082011
 

Aberdeen Campaign For Nuclear Disarmament invite you to enjoy with us an evening of 

Poetry and Song for a Peaceful World

 

.
Friday 9th December,

Quaker Meeting House,

98 Crown Street,

Aberdeen


Performers include:
Gerard Rochford, Kirsty Potts, Dave Davies, Lorna Grant, Bob Smith, Hilda Meers

Little-known originals and world famous poets will be represented, with new contributors welcome.

  • Also Open Mic
  • Admission Free
  • All Welcome

Complimentary mulled wine and mince pies provided

Doors open 7pm for a 7.30pm start

For more info contact Sally at: sally@hjke.org

 

Dec 012011
 

By Bob Smith.

Here comes the Retail Festival
Cooched in glossy Christmas cheer
Spen spen spen the shops cry oot
Their merchandisin moves up a gear

Maun we owerspen at Christmas
On presents aat leave us skint?
Mony fowk are left in debt
So aat shops can mak a mint

Christmas time itsel a fear
His lost it’s freenly glow
Fowk tryin to see faa can hae
The dearest presents on show

A sma present ti faimly members
There is nae hairm in iss
Bit keepin up wi the Joneses
Is some fowks idea o bliss

Hunners o poonds they are spent
On presents fer aa yer freens
Kids yammerin fer the latest
Toy or game shown on TV screens

Hotels an restaurants filled ti the brim
Yet their prices are ower the tap
Faan wull aa iss madness eyn
An prices wull stairt ti drap

Faimly Christmases used ti be
A time ti visit an hae a blether
Yet ti sit aroon the table
Nooadays fowk they dinna bither

The festivities noo a fear
Hiv naething ti dee wi the 25th
It’s aa ti dee wi consumerism
Spenin dosh on expeensive gifts

In case ye think a’m a scrooge
Tak time ti stop an think
Fit’s the purpose o aa iss spenin
Ither than bringin ye ti debt’s brink

It’s time fer a revolution
A time ti say stuff yer stuff
Resist the aa empowerin persuasion
Pit the retailers in a huff

Celebrate Christmas? Of coorse we shud
Yet think fit shud be deen
Raither than buy a material gift
Jist present yersel as a freen

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie”
Image Credit: © Sergey Sundikov | Dreamstime.com

Nov 242011
 

By Bob Smith.


Silence we need noo an again
Yet it’s affa hard ti find
Aabody fleein aroon at sic a rate
Takin pairt in life’s daily grind

Silence wid be a bonus
Fin we jist sit aroon an think
Yet afen silence passes by
t’s past afore ye blink

Silence on a bonnie day
On a hilltop far fae toons
Watchin the cloods floatin by
Is een o life’s great boons

Silence fae noise o motor cars
Or mobile phones eynless  ringin
Silence jist ti rest yer brain
An ti hear the birdies singin

Silence is a gift ye ken
An een nae afen gien
Wi chatter, clatter an bangin
Silence seen becomes yer freen

A “Silence Day” we shud hae
Fin ti scraich an yell’s a crime
An raakin up the decibels
Wid git some a hefty fine

Silence tho micht be nae gweed
Ti an aul body bi thersel
Silence wi naebody ti spik ti
Wid bi seen as a livin hell

It canna be ower muckle ti ask
Fer fowk ti be a bittie quairt
Iss micht jist hae fowk smilin
Fin silence it taks pairt

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2011
 Image credit: © Craig Hanson | Dreamstime.com 

Nov 172011
 

By Bob Smith.

A meadow ower on Tullos Hill
Iss idea it is maist gran
A use faar mair diversified
Than jist trees upon the lan

A maun confess a love fer trees
Am a member o The Widdland Trust
Bit the growin o a hey meadow
Ower in Tullos iss is a must

Ye’ll hae wild flooers an ither plants
Buttercups, reid clover an daisies
Ti attract aa kins o beasties
Moths plus bees an butterflees

Doonamang aa the grasses
Frog hoppers wi yon cuckoo spit
Horny-gollachs an grasshoppers
An beetles faa feed on shit

Hay meadows are rich in earthwirms
Faa  dee gweed things ti the soil
Are fine grub fer birds an mowdiewarts
A feast they think richt royal

Noo meadows provide nesting grun
Fer the peesies an skylarks
Faa hiv a job ti survive
In intensive fairmed parks

It’s reckoned ae hail acre
Can support twa million spiders
An lots o ither  insects
Faa in win are expert gliders

Anither species faa wull benefit
Fae iss idea fit’s maist gifted
Is aa us tired oot humans
Faas spirits wull be uplifted

Jist ti waak throwe a meadow
Wi its flooers an bummin foggies
A pleasure e’en on a frosty morn
Myn an weer yer hummel doddies

So awa wi yon feel ideas
Ti sheet the puir bliddy deer
Leave them ti graze a meadow
An live a life withoot ony fear

©Bob Smith”The Poetry Mannie” 2011
Image credit: Suzanne Kelly.

Nov 112011
 

By Bob Smith.

A’ve waakit up ower Bennachie
Fae Mither Tap hae seen the view
A’ve suntered up the Brimmond Hill
In rain an fin skies war blue

A’ve dannered in bonnie kwintraside
Strode on a Schiehallion ridge
A’ve wannered throwe the Lairig Ghru
Fae Linn o Dee ti Coylumbridge

A’ve climmed up throwe the boulders
Ti win ti the tap o Lochnagar
A’ve aye been affa lucky
Fae the tap a’ve seen afar

A’ve rambled fae Loch Muick
Ti Glen Clova past Glendoll
A’ve dauchled near the Grey Mare’s Tail
Ti see the watterfall

A’ve gin throwe glens an valleys
Each his its ain beauty
A’ve stravaiged aa ower Perthshire
Near Loch Tay at Achnafree

A’ve traversed the slopes o Cloch-na-ben
An seen boulders as big’s ma hoose
The only thing a hinna seen yet
Is the kwintraside aroon Glen Luce

A’ve been on the tap o Peter’s Hill
Fin ye cwidna see fer fog
A’ve been on waaks fit war easy
An some they war a fair slog

Throwe the glen o the River Tanar
A’ve cam ti the slopes o Mount Keen
The walk ti git ti the boddom
Fair keeps ye baith fit an lean

The win his blawn throwe ma hair
The rain his made ma weet
A enjoyed every meenit o’it
Tho noo an agin a hid sair feet.

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie”
Image credit:  © Maxim Tupikov | Dreamstime.com