Natures Fecht For Union Terrace Gairdens – A Poem By Bob Smith
The craws war chattin ti the doos
Hiv ye heard the affa news
They’re destroyin oor gairdens at Union Terrace
Thae humans are a bliddy menace
The doos said are ye sure yer richt
We ken you craws are nae that bricht
Oh aye we heard it fae a wise aul owl
Fa wis doon the Toon’s Hoose for a prowl
Noo Jenny Wren wis hoppin aroond
Fin she heard the doos kickin up a soond
She flew up high ti see fit’s fit
Fit she heard she didna like ae bit
Oh michty me an gweedness gracious
Fillin in oor gairdens fit are richt precious
The trees and shrubbies far a hop aboot
Wull aa be for the chap nae doot
The tale wis telt ti the snails
They lit oot some affa wails
Iss surely it jist canna be
Destroy the gairdens an we’ll aa dee
Syne the news it reached the bugs
They hid heard it fae the slugs
The Toon’s Hoose wull be oor destination
There ti hae a wee bit infestation
We’ll crawl aa ower the Provost’s chair
An get in yon John Stewart’s hair
The mannie’ll hae ti hae a scratch
Serves him richt the silly vratch
The moles they noo heard the chatter
An said we’ll hae a wee bit natter
We can undermine St Nicholas Hoose
So’s the foondations are a bittie loose
Noo the robins war maist pit oot
As roon an roon they did scoot
Iss is news jist affa silly
As they passed it on ti a blue tit billie
The Blue Tits they warna overjoyed
In fact they were fair annoyed
We’ll hae ti flit ti Westburn Park
An that’ll nae be much o a lark
Syne a butterfly it flitted bye
On hearin aa the spik did cry
Fit aboot the bonnie flooers
Far a spent sic happy oors
The squirrels they cam oot o hidin
Fae holes in trees far they wis bidin
They canna chap doon oor hame
Fa thocht up iss silly game
The bees noo they war bummin
Wi frustration they wis hummin
We’ll hiv ti sting aa the bums
O Sir Ian Widd an his chums
The flooers, shrubs an the trees
War duncin wi anger in the breeze
Iss his been oor hame for yonks
Aa ti be trashed by stupid gonks
The aul aul trees hid some inspiration
We’re covered by an order o preservation
Jist aabody bide in oor leafy green tops
Agin the diggers we’ll pull oot aa the stops
Leave us aa aleen is nature’s plea
Nae hairm ti humanity did we ivver dee
Ye humans are jist bliddy feel
As oor gairdens ye try ti steal
Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2010
