Apr 192018
 

Duncan Harley reviews Fittie Fittie Bang Bang @ HM Theatre Aberdeen.

Broad Street may not quite be on a par with Broadway, but if this year’s Aberdeen Student Charities Campaign production of the brand new musical Fittie Fittie Bang Bang is anything to go by, then theatre-wise at least, the Granite City is well on the way to becoming the Manhattan of the north.

Previous productions have included titles such as ‘An American in Powis’, ‘A Midstocket Night’s Scream’ and of course last year’s musical extravaganza ‘Michty Mia!’.

However, this year’s production of ‘Fittie Fittie Bang Bang’ must surely take the biscuit.

Bond writer Ian Fleming was a keen follower of motor racing and the original Chitty tale evolved from stories involving a series of monstrous aero-engined cars funded by the richly eccentric ‘Bentley Boy’ speed-king Count Louis Zborowski in those far off roaring twenties.

In the subsequent Hollywood production, the Chitty story involved one of Zborowski’s racing cars being rescued from the scrapyard by a gang of cheerily red-faced middle-class school-children.

Fast forward to this week’s student production of Fittie Fittie Bang Bang and a dastardly plot involving the consignment of Aberdeen’s old folk to the scrapyard takes to the HMT stage.

With electoral fraud firmly to the fore, Trump look-alike Lord Provost Dean Fine plans to revive the ailing fortunes of the Granite City using a series of sinister measures intended to clear the streets of the elderly inhabitants of the city.

A suitably evil ‘Grunny Catcher’, ably played by Callum Anderson, is set loose and before long the city’s OAP’s begin to disappear. Provost Fine, played by Reece James Duncan, announces plans to build a border wall around Torry while in far off Fittie the search begins for the missing old folk of Aberdeen.

Enter Bradley Phillips as Dick Van Dyce, Becky Hossick as Provost’s daughter Effie Fine and Victoria Barvinko as the Provost’s trophy wife Nadine Fine.

Will the red-haired Lord Provost succeed in his dastardly scheme? Or can Dick and his merry gang rescue the imprisoned OAP’s from a fate worse than death in Aberdeen’s Marischal College Premier Retirement Home.

Add in a flying fish-van plus some splendid musical numbers and, judging by last nights full-house, last years total of £92k raised for local charities looks likely to be well on the way to being exceeded.

A 5 Star must see!

Musical direction is by Matthew Rose with choreography by Sophie Hamilton Pike and stage management by Graeme Shepherd.

The musical, Fittie Fittie Bang Bang plays at HMT Aberdeen until Saturday 21 April 2018

Tickets from Aberdeen Performing Arts Tel: 01224- 641122
Words © Duncan Harley and Images © HMT Aberdeen

Dec 112015
 
Bob_Smith_-_The_Poetry_Mannie_2

Aberdeen Voice’s ‘poetry mannie in residence’ Bob Smith, who passed away on March 5.

In March 2015, Aberdeen Voice lost one of it’s most prolific writers and best loved team members, our ‘poetry mannie’, Bob Smith.

Bob was a fierce critic of Donald Trump, and would never miss an opportunity to ‘mention’ Trump in his popular poems, which he contributed weekly in Aberdeen Voice for a period of over 4 years.

In all, Bob contributed in excess of 200 poems, and a monthly column entitled ‘Smithy’s Scribblins’

As we digest the news that Donald Trump has had his honorary degree revoked by RGU, His Global Scot status revoked by Nicola Sturgeon, and a petition to ban him from the UK, launched by ‘Voice’s Suzanne Kelly, becoming the most popular petition ever to appear on the Government’s petition site, with, at the time of writing, nearly half a million signatures, our thoughts turn to Bob and how we miss his unique brand of humour.

Bob would have loved to have seen this day, and undoubtedly would be frantically scribbling down some new verses to mark the occasion.

Therefore it seems fitting to republish one of his many poems, this from September 2010, and raise a glass to a warm and genuine friend we were glad to know and very much miss.

– Fred Wilkinson, Editor.
.

(Noo the Richt Gits University)

by Bob Smith.

The Donald his been awarded
A University honorary degree
His the principal gin aff his heid
At yon learned placie by the Dee?

Continue reading »

Apr 232015
 

By Julia Ghisoni.RowiesRollsPancakes

Fa is it maks the best rowies?
Is it Murdoch Allan or Thains?
Or the Aberdeen Buttery Co.?
Or Aitken’s, I jist dinna ken
.
Far div ye ging for proper pies,
In proper pastry casings?
Ye dinna get them in Gregg’s
It’s Chalmer’s, Thain’s or Aitken’s ?
.
Pies wi’ chicken curry
Scotch pies, mince an’ tattie
There’s naethin’ sae fine for yer denner
Than a steak pie in a saftie.
.
The finest wee baker in Cults
Is soon tae be no more
Will Sainsbury’s sell decent pies
Fan Kelly shuts his door?
Div ye min The Baker’s Oven?
Mitchell Muil, Strathdee?
Low’s the baker in Torry?
Granite City Bakery?
.
Pies wi’ beans an’ tatties
Pies wi’ macaroni
Bridies, stovies, sassidge rolls
Pies wi’ mince an’ skirlie
.
The Gordon Baker, The Bedford
The Greenfern an’ The Byron
The Newton Dee an’ JG Ross
Oh fit rare, fit fine min.
.
There’s naewye like the ‘deen
If ye wint fine pies, it’s a caiker
Bide awa’ fae Gregg’s
An’ support yer local baker
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Apr 012015
 

By Duncan Harley and Fred Wilkinson on behalf of the Aberdeen Voice team.

Bob_Smith_-_The_Poetry_Mannie_2

Aberdeen Voice’s ‘poetry mannie in residence’ Bob Smith, who passed away on March 5.

Bob Smith has passed away at age 74. He signed himself “Bob Smith © – The Poetry Mannie” and told us all that Doric wirds are mair expressive, than onything else ye micht hear.

In true Bob style he kept his last illness very quiet saying only that he was unable to write at the present.

His daughter Kerry later got in touch regarding his passing. He died at home.

To the best of our knowledge, his last published piece, The Wireless appeared in the February 2015 edition Leopard Magazine. A fitting tribute to the man’s talent, the poem reflects on past times when he was a loon.

Jimmy Shand, Sports Report and that Prince Charles favourite the Goon Show all get a mention.

This extract tells of Dick Barton Special Agent plus ace detective Paul Temple, famous sleuth and amateur private detective:

“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 ……… “

Robert Smith was born and brought up on a farm in Skene, Aberdeenshire and educated at Garlogie Primary School and at Skene School. He only took up writing poetry after he retired.

Married to Linda, Bob’s daughter Kerry lives in Dubai. His son Steven sadly pre-deceased him in early 2014.

Bob worked for many years at Aberdeen Journals before taking early retirement to pursue his other interests which included the buying and selling of antiques, playing golf and passionately following the Dons. He proclaimed himself as their number one fan.

A deep love of the North East of Scotland, it’s landscape, it’s people, it’s traditions and it’s natural heritage are recurrent themes in Bob’s written work. Such passion would be expressed not only by celebrating such treasures, but also by questioning, satirising and pouring scorn on any figure or process which threatened or detracted from that which he held dear.

Bob reserved his hard hitting political comments for those whom he felt deserved them. Donald Trump, Sir Ian Wood and a good few Aberdeen councillors often got a good bashing both in the form of his letters to the local papers and his poetry, which was usually in the Doric.

Bob was widely published. A search for “Bob Smith” in the Aberdeen Voice search box will return around 100 of Bob’s Doric poems. There are of course many more.

When the man was asked if he knew of a poem in the Doric to use at a friend’s mums funeral, he replied in the negative but said he would immediately pen one. It was duly read out by a grieving grandson last November in an Aberdeen church to an audience of relatives. Bob of course was unrepentantly shy regarding his contribution to the ceremony, only saying that he was glad to help.

It would be comforting to think that this unpublished piece might become a classic. The Catto family have a cherished copy and if asked would no doubt share freely.

Alongside his weekly Aberdeen Voice column his Doric poems featured in Leopard Magazine and his take on the Turra Coo featured in the Scottish Review.

The Bonnie Dunes o Menie, stuff about Fitba and the Spikkin o Doric all came under his wry scrutiny.

Smithy’s Scribblins aboot the naitural warld included lines such as:

“Foo lang afore ess prophecy becomes a reality? And Weel the wye we’re gobblin up the Earth’s resources, maybe seener than ye bliddy think.

“The fowk fa war native tae America lang afore the supposed civilised warld visited their shores kent fine foo tae live alangside naitur.”

His take on Trump was less forgiving. But apart from a ribald comment or ten, Bob was content just to criticise the man thus:

The Donald’s bocht a golf resort
Doon on the Ayrshire coast
A’ll get ti host The Open
Wull noo be his prood boast

Thirty Five million he did spen
He got Turnberry fer a snip
Es o coorse micht mean
Interest in Menie taks a dip

Jist cast yer myn back
Fin winfairms he did detest
The mannie made a vow
In Scotland he’d nae mair invest

Fit ti mak o ess U-turn
As he cums crawlin back
Bein economical wi the truth
The chiel still his the knack

Hud on a wee meenitie tho’
It micht nae be plain sailin
The spectre o affshore winfairms
Cwid yet hae Trumpie wailin

Marine Scotland it his reported
Aboot a site jist oot at sea
Far ye cwid plunk win turbines
They’d be richt in Donald’s ee

Fergus Ewing says ess plans
Fer noo are aff the radar
Yet fair refused ti rule oot
Returnin ti them later

If a winfairm cam ti pass
Wid The Donald then renege?
Or wid he maybe in a rage
Blaw up yon Ailsa Craig

At Doonbeg he’d ti stop some wark
Did he nae hae richt permission?
He can tho’ noo  gyaang ahead
Maybe efter a new submission?

Micht Donald hae fresh concerns
A snail in Ireland is protectit
Bi speecial environmental laws
An ess canna be correctit

Trump says he’s gyaan ti wark
Wi environmentalists an sic fowk
If he’d deen aat ower in Menie
He micht nae bin classed a gowk

Noo ere’s nae doot the mannie
Oot the news he winna bide
Wull we next aa be hearin
The bugger’s bocht the River Clyde …

He wrote about many folk and commented wildly according to his well held views. Bob knew how to make those wee moments special.

In not so far off December 2013 he referenced some prophetic words by a Native American tribal leader by the name of Chief Seattle.

“A’ll leave the last wird tae a Native American tribal leader, Chief Seattle, fa said awa back in 1854:-

Humankind has not woven the web of life, We are but one thread within it.
Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves, All things are bound together.
All things connect.”

One of his most heartfelt classics is Spikkin Doric  published in the Voice some years ago, the piece reflects on the banning of the native tongue of the north east during the difficult days when locals were encouraged to speak the queens English and stand to attention when listening to the national anthem. Bob would have none if it.

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

© Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie

Fred, the Voice Team and I could of course go on. Robert is a man well missed by all who knew him. Well met and well written Bob, we miss you.

Comments are of course very welcome.

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Mar 272015
 

Voice’s Old Susannah takes a look over the past week’s events in the ‘Deen and beyond. By Suzanne Kelly.

DictionaryApologies for the late running of this service. Old Susannah was on holiday, and catching up with current events is taking time. Hard to know where to start, or what day of the week it is. It’s all so overwhelming – I feel nearly as confused as Aberdeen’s ex-Chief exec Valerie Watts trying to manage her appointments diary.

As you may have seen, Ms Watts was supposed to attend a Standards Commission hearing at the Town House on 11 February. I’m sure you think of her as a woman of her word, and a very competent organiser every bit as much as I do.

Alas! She said she’d be on a video link from her exciting new job in Belfast at the DSS (perhaps a fitting end for the mastermind of our city of culture bid), but at the very last minute, she announced that the Permanent Secretary needed her in a meeting on the very same day.

That’s some coincidence. After a little digging it turns out no such meeting seems to have been requested or recorded.

She’d also seen him two days earlier and was going to see him in a week or two. I’m sure she told the PS about having already accepted going to a hearing, and the PS insisted Valerie spend the entire day in this meeting instead.

The hearing would have decided whether or not 7 councillors in the doc over an allegedly pro-union letter sent to Aberdeen residents was acceptable or not. This is now conveniently – or inconveniently depending on your perspective – kicked into the long grass until after the May elections. Apparently in Northern Ireland, government mandarins make meeting arrangements by telephone.

Call me a simple country girl, but when I schedule business meetings, I use this thing called a computer. A computer can send messages magically to lots of other people; this is called email. Even more amazing, a computer often has an electronic calendar, from which I can send out meeting requests.

Believe it or not, the electronic calendar will save meeting invitations so that I know not to accept meetings if I already have something in the diary!

I think we may chip in and buy Ms Watts such a computer. She also seems to have indicated she takes care of her diary appointments on her own with no help. We also have these people called secretaries and PAs here, but I guess she doesn’t have one. Looks like she’s doing as good and open a job with her diary as she did when she was in office here (her Aberdeen salary was £148,000 per annum).

Thinking on the May elections, it will be very hard to decide which one of the candidates for Prime Minister is the most honest, beneficial, public-serving, intelligent, choice. If you are intending to vote, you may be interested to know that many people think they are on the electoral register but aren’t.

Lots of room for office blocks and Stewart Milne housing

Some fifty people who wanted to sign the petition about Tullos Hill asking for the city to save remaining deer and come clean on the cost of the dead tree for every citizen project had their signatures thrown off the petition for not being registered Aberdeen City voters.

Make sure you register to vote here – and please think about signing the petition here – you have until 3 April. (or contact Suzanne Kelly via Aberdeen Voice if you have problems registering / signing).

During my vacation I was in Taunton, London and Brighton. Taunton has these big rolling green fields with domestic animals and wildlife.  Lots of room for office blocks and Stewart Milne housing. London has these buses which cost about half the price of our own First Buses, come ten times more frequently – and even run frequently after 6pm!

Brighton was very nice – but it could use some bunting. and there aren’t enough multinational shops, so they have to have these little, individualistic shops instead.

Part of the purpose of my visit was to report on something called ‘Whalefest’. I’d hoped this would be a nice yummy Japanese, Faroese or Icelandic buffet kind of thing, but it turns out all these people want to save whales and dolphins, not eat them. For some reason, there are lots of people who want to stand in the way of Japanese scientific  missions to learn about whales.

What better way to learn about a sentient animal than by terrifying, chasing, harpooning, torturing and cutting them up alive? Protesting against Japanese science is some outfit called Sea Shepherd. Don’t worry; they won’t get very far; they even let women captain some of their ships! I’m sure that’s just some kind of token gesture thing though. More about these people and this Whalefest here.

In Brighton I stayed at the same hotel as stars from ‘The X Factor’. I found myself in a lift with a guy who looked about 14 years old. He said, with a world-weary voice ‘You just won’t believe how fast it goes. One minute you’re starting out, and the next thing you know it’s all over’.

It sounded kind of strange coming from someone with their future before them I thought, and today I remembered this encounter, as I found out that Aberdeen Voice’s inimitable, irreplaceable, irreverent poetry mannie Mr Bob Smith had passed away.

He used his wonderful poems to attack the powerful, the vain, the greedy. Somehow here in Aberdeen he never ran out of material to write about. Farewell Mr Smith; all the best wishes to his family and friends. And with that, some definitions.

non omnis moriar: (Latin ) I will never wholly die

The classical poet Horace believed that as long as people read his works, he would never really be completely gone from this world.  Shakespeare echoed this idea in his famous Sonnet 18 (you will know the words ‘shall I compare thee to a summer’s day…). Shakespeare closes the sonnet with the lines:

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”
– William Shakespeare

This is how I feel about those who have passed away, but left art, music, poetry, beautiful architecture or works, or who did great deeds.  This is how I feel about the passing of Aberdeen Voice’s poetry mannie, Mr Bob Smith.

His Doric poems  challenge the authorities, the bullies, the materialistic and greedy, and the Trumps of this world. Bob will be very much missed, but we’ve still got his poems, his books and our memories. You can look through his Aberdeen Voice poems here.

Seagull Survival Guide: (modern English compound noun) An Aberdeenshire booklet created to help with seagull problems.

Did you know that coastal towns such as Aberdeen, Peterhead and Stonehaven might be attractive to birds that live on coastal areas?

Apparently this is true, and the Shire has come up with a great way to help you deal with this astounding fact; they created a seagull guide. Astonishingly, there is no charge for the book – all the collective wisdom of the shire’s best minds is going for free. Result!

It might be a good idea for those who don’t like seagulls and sea birds to consider living somewhere that doesn’t have them.  Failing that, apparently if people don’t discard food and garbage on the pavements and streets, gulls won’t swoop down to eat discarded food and garbage.  I hope this revelation gets national press attention.

The way things are going though, we soon won’t be plagued by any gulls, eider ducks, swans or other ‘vermin’ – as Aberdeen City’s Peter Leonard is fond of calling wildlife. Pretty soon there won’t be a patch of grass, meadow or scrub land anywhere.  The Harbour Board is helping to see to that.

Torry residents are thrilled to find their sandy bay and harbour area will forever be turned into private, no-go areas. Cove residents for some reason feel there is too much building going on goodness knows why, and have started a facebook page. Let’s be grateful that Torry folk haven’t followed suit and organised against the Harbour Board’s land seizure plans. Or have they….

If you think this seagull survival guide is for the birds, perhaps it is the seagulls which need a survival guide. After all, it is not that long ago that seagull hating, shotgun-toting top oil executive Mervyn New showed up for work with an air gun, and blasted a nest of baby gulls to smithereens.

This resulted in no penalty, no police interest, and no sanction from New’s company, Marine Subsea UK. To be fair, those tiny gulls, not yet old enough to fly, and their parents should have checked with New first before moving in. No oil executive in a coastal area should have to put up with listening to seabirds.

the police know how to treat important businessmen

Helpfully, the shire’s new guide tells you that doing as Mervyn did is totally, wholly illegal. I guess if you’re head of a top oil company you can’t be expected to figure out the minor points of law and gun ownership, can you?

There was no record I could find of New being banged up in a cell, or held for questioning overnight.

You’ve got to treat important people carefully, you see.

As for someone like George Copland, whose empty house was stormed by police who were told someone inside had a gun (there is no way anyone would have had a reason to go down the little cul de sac Copland lives on and looked through his window in the first place, and from the mail road no windows are visible – but let’s not split hairs).

Copland, like New, had an air rifle. Nothing illegal was found.

Therefore, days later, the police stormed into Copland’s girlfriend’s home in a dawn raid, and dragged him off for a few days – even though he had broken no law – other than not going to meet the police when they first called him (he was not told he could bring a friend as people who have emotional or mental health issues are entitled to by law, nor was he told he could bring a lawyer. He watched the siege of his house from television, and was rightfully terrified).

So there you have it: the police know how to treat important businessmen, and how to treat punk rock singers. One had discharged a gun killing and wounding animals – against the law. The other one had committed no crime. Guess which one was treated like a criminal.

Old Susannah would like to be able to tell you the latest on Copland, and hopefully there will be an opportunity to tell you more soon.

It was injustices like this that Bob Smith could not abide. He was no fan of Trump, either. Smith, Anthony Baxter and I all met for the first time in the lobby of the Belmont when You’ve Been Trumped was shown for the first time ever. Bob was livid after the film, as were so many of us. Thanks for the memories Bob, the support, and those wonderful poems. Tally ho.

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Dec 052014
 

unionsttallpicBy Bob Smith.

I’m aul aneuch ti myn the time
Fin in a clean toon we did bide
Aboot  pavements an shop fronts
Local fowk they took great pride

Shopkeepers wi bucket an mop
They kept the place richt bonnie
Sad ti say o sic carin fowk
Ye dinna noo see aat mony

Washin doon their winda gless
So’s fowk cwid see their wares
Be it floorie baps an funcy pieces
Or polished aipples an sweet pears

There’s nae shops o aat kine
In oor main street ony mair
Jist phone shops an coffee shops
Union Street his lost its flair

Greedy landlords hikin up the rent
Hiv seen local shops in demise
Multi nationals and finance shops
They are  fair noo on the rise

Aboot 80% o their takins
Gyangs awa oot o iss city
Shareholders aa ower the country
Are smilin mairs the pity

Shoppers noo jist  hae a thocht
Fin next ye spend yer cash
It’s nae aa bidin in the toon
Wi local shops we’re nae awash

Union Street is fair sufferin
O aat there is nae doot
Supermarkets and shoppin malls
They’re takin aa the loot

The fate o oor local economy
Is in the  hauns o us aa
Support the local shoppies
Afore they gyang ti the wa

Ti mak oor toon spik an span
Wi hiv ti chynge the trends
O spittin oot oor chuddy
Or chukkin doon fag ends

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2011

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Nov 282014
 

ChristmasBy Bob Smith.

Christmas means a lot o things
Ti some it is present buyin
Ti ither fowk a time o hope
Ti the lonely it can bi tryin

“Gweed King Wenceslas leuk’t oot”
An aa the malls war  heavin
Fowk rinnin aboot like reid ersed bees
Fae bank balances cash wis leavin

Christmas time I like it fine
If aa ignore the retail farce
Fin some drink ower the score
An lan up on their arse

Christmas means bonnie music
Na nae the ringin o the tills
Bit brass bands an joyfu singin
As choirs show aff their skills

On the wireless tunes are played
Ti ma lugs es brings great joy
They bring oot aa the classics
A’ve kent sin a wis a boy

Christmas shud be a time o peace
As wi leuk up ti the stars
If onybody’s up ‘ere leukin doon
Aa they’ll see is bliddy wars

An yet in the midst o the Great War
Ae Christmas ‘ere wis brief respite
Fin Tommies an Jerries played fitba
An baith sides sang “Silent Night”

© Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2014
Picture Credit: Ian Britton. Freefoto.com
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Nov 212014
 

By Bob Smith.Seagulls - Credit:  Fred Wilkinson

Come freenly seagulls shite on heids
O fowk fa did some affa deeds
Saying gless boxes full oor needs
Shite on them aa
.
On fat cats fa are fair lax
On peyin their full whack o tax
An affshore accoonts use ti the max
Shite on them aa
.
Binge drinkers fa blight oor toon
An on oor streets they div fa doon
At wikk-eyns some like ti moon
Shite on them aa
.
Aulder weemin wi peroxide hair
Tho roots are showin they dinna care
Growein auld they fin hard ti bare
Shite on them aa
.
Bad drivers leave their abodes
Unleashed upon oor city roads
A danger ti cyclists and wee toads
Shite on them aa
Developers fa wee boxes bigg
Be it Portlethen or near NiggAboot the kwintraside dinna gie a fig
Shite on them aa
.
Some cooncillors an some MSPs
Fa tell us aa sic bliddy lees
Bring them doon  upon their knees
Shite on them aa
.
Fowk fa bide in Rubislaw Den
Foo the poor live they dinna ken
An dinna forget the money men
Shite on them aa
.
Come ye freenly seagulls flee
Ower the toon twixt Don an Dee
Ony modern architects ye div see
Shite on them aa
.
.
.
.
©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2014
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Nov 142014
 

sky-mountain-1By Bob Smith.

A hiv noo ti confess masel’
A’ve cursed fin it dis rain
Canna git on the gowf course
Greens flooded eence again

Bit hae a wee bit think fowks
If we didna hae the rain
Kwintraside aa leukin gizzent
Baith here an in Dunblane

Nae watter rinnin doon the hills
An inti oor rivers tumblin
The fairmers tryin ti growe craps
Wid fair hae cause fer grumblin

Nae greenery in hills or glens
Trees stuntit in their growth
Nae watter ti the distilleries
Noo aat wid raise an oath

Fin yer plowt’rin throwe the dubs
An aa the rainfa it is measur’t
Jist myn withoot the rain
We’d be like the Gobi desert

Gweed Lord lit the rain doon faa
On golden locks an baldy heids
Ca cannie wi hivvens’s watterin can
Jist aneuch fer aa oor needs.

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2012
 Image Credit: SKY MOUNTAIN 1 © Alexandru Mitrea | Dreamstime.com

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Nov 072014
 

bowlinghalloweenBy Bob Smith.

On a weel kent street in Aiberdeen
T’wis the nicht o yon Halloween
A fyow chiels dressed as skittles
War oot fer fun, booze an vittles

Doon on Belmont Street they war
Fin they cam upon a bobbie’s car
The loons they did staan their grun
An syne began aa the fun

The boys in blue in their car
Did a gweed job fer polis PR
The car becam the ten pin ba
The “skittles” aa pretendit ti fa

The video o es it wint fair viral
Wi loons bunk balances set ti spiral
A Yankee firm video richts hiv bocht
As mair “hits” on es is socht

Fit next fer the chiels next Halloween
Fin they tak ti the streets o Aiberdeen
They cwid aye dress up as Donald Trumps
Wid the bobbies dare ti “hit” their rumps?

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2014
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