Oct 042013

Be quiet, my friend. You can't tell my secrets.By Bob Smith.

The NHS lot are glaikit
PC  is on the loose
Faimily doctor or elderly
Is wirds they winna use 

Banned fae NHS bitties o paper
In case they cause offence
Fa thocht up iss bliddy crap
Is mair than a bittie dense 

PC is on the mairch
It affects noo aa wir lives
Seems wi jist hiv pairtners
Nae bidie-ins or wives 

Nursery rhymes hiv bin affected
Is baa baa black sheep noo taboo?
Wid baa baa little sheep
Be aaricht wi the P.C crew? 

The warld it his fair geen gyte
“Gyaan tae the dogs” comes tae myn
Meybe a canna use ess phrase?
In case a offend some puir canine 

Are wi tae be PC or nae PC?
Aat’s the question wi maan ask
Is’t time wi kick’t some erses
An took PC buggers tae task 

So awa aa ye PC gomerils
Free fae havers wid be bliss
Onymair  o yer glaikit ideas
An a’m sure tae tak the piss

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013

Mar 222012

By Bob Smith.

The human race’s in the control
O buttons an technology
Young fowk canna git a jobbie
There’s bugger aa fer them ti dee

The button on the TV remote
His life become a farce?
Ti turn the TV on an aff
Nae need ti move yer arse

Buttons on the factory fleer
Mair robots on assembly line
The workforce eence in hunners
Micht noo be jist forty nine

Nae need fer sae mony bunk tellers
Fan siller ye wint ti withdraw
Jist touch a fyow wee buttons
O the machine in the hole in the wa

Press the PC start button
Info at eence ye’ll access
E’en pyein yer accoonts online
Is classed as total progress

The buttonie on a hairst combine
Leaves ae mannie noo in control
Fairm workers aa oot o wark
Nae langer oan the peyroll

A wee button ye maan punch
Afore crossin a richt busy street
The green mannie he tells ye
Faan ti stairt usin yer feet

The bricht radar screen on a trawler
Tells the skipper fan he’s near fish
Nae winner the stocks are fair drappin
It’s nae langer a hit or a miss

The purveyors o new technology
Tell us oor lives are noo gran
As lang as ye hit a wee button
Wi ae digit attached ti yer haun

Hid the Luddites the richt idea
Fin smashin up looms mechanised?
Maybe they saw inti the future
As jobs noo are fair prized

Thon mannie Albert Einstein said
In a batch o wirds fair minimal
“Technological progress is like an aix
In the haun’s o a pathological criminal”

A fyow rows o buttons I div like
Are eens on a gweed “squeeze- box”
Press its buttons aa ye like
Accordion music it fair rocks

© Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie”2012
Image credit:  © Phil Date | Dreamstime.com

Oct 072011

By Bob Smith.

Hark the “Sunday Herald”  did sing
An ti us aa the news did bring
Trump  he wintit oor cops ti be
Jist like the lot in the NYPD

Donald he cam fae oot the sky
An ti oor bobbies wint in bye
Askin they aa did his biddin
Fowks the mannie wisna kiddin!!

Fit dis the silly bugger fear
Molly Forbes in combat gear?
Maybe David Milne wi bows an arras
Dis Susan Munro train “Suicide sparras” ?

The tap bobbies noo they warna convinced
Bein accused o bias they maybe sensed
Bi drappin aathing at Trumpie’s request
Yet twa filmin chiels they did arrest

Aberdeenshire Cooncil think Donald’s a god
An were maybe happy that PC Plod
Wid flee aroon at Trumpie’s biddin
Checkin fit’s happenin at “Michael’s Midden”

Faa’s tellin the truth aboot the windfairm
Did Scottish Government agree nae ti hairm
The bonnie view fae Donald’s mansion
An turbine plans they winna sanction

The fowk faa work in MacLeod Hoose
Are feart that vandals are on the loose
Wull Dod Sorial an aa Trump’s posers
Be shoutin “Donald Faar’s Yer Rozzers?”

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2011
Picture Credit:  © Daniel Wiedemann | Dreamstime.com






Jan 072011

By Bob Smith.

I switched on my computer
Ae cauld December day
Fit I found on ma screen
Fair filled me wi dismay

“Yer affa low on disk space”
The bubble it me did tell
I sat an scratched ma heid
An some obscenities did yell

I tried ma best ti recover space
By deletin’ some o ma files
It didna mak muckle odds
I wis losin space in style

Gweed fowk gied me suggestions
An them I aa then used
By the time I wis feenished
I wis gettin’ mair confused

Doon an doon the GB’s wint
Till I wis near despair
I punched in iss, I punched in aat
An tuggit oot tufts o hair

The laptop it his nearly been
Fair chukkit in the bin
Bit fegs I’m an Aiberdonian
Throwin’ siller awa is a sin

So ma freens I’m noo affline
Cos I canna doonload at speed
The computer’s in for an MOT
So disk space can be freed

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2010