Black Friday

Oot behind a lorry, Peyin nae heed,

Ablow a double decker, A poor wean deid.

Perra worn sannies, Wee durrty knees, Heh, errapolis, Stand back please!

Lookit the conductriss, Face as white as chalk, Heh, see the driver but, Canny even talk.

Anyone a witness? Naw, we never saw, Glad ah'm no' the polis, Goin tae tell his maw.

Weemin windae-hingin, Herts in their mooth, It's no' oor close, Lizzie, Oh Gawdstrewth!

Screams on the landin', Two closes doon,

It's no wee Hughie! Poor Nellie Broon.

Phone up the shipyard, Oh, whit a shame,

Yes, we'll inform him, Please repeat the name.

Beth Gelert

That day Llewellyn little loved

The chase of hart and hare;

And scant and small the booty proved,

For Gelert was not there.

Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied,

When, near the portal seat,

His truant Gelert he espied

Bounding his lord to greet.

But when he gained the castle-door,

Aghast the chieftain stood;

The hound all o’er was smeared with gore;

His lips, his fangs, ran blood.

Llewellyn gazed with fierce surprise;

Unused such looks to meet,

His favourite checked his joyful guise,

And crouched, and licked his feet.

Onwards, in haste, Llewellyn passed,

And on went Gelert too;

And still, where’er his eyes he cast,

Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view.

Overturned his infant’s bed he found,

With blood-stained covert rent;

And all around the walls and ground

With recent blood besprent.

He called his child – no voice replied –

He searched with terror wild;

Blood, blood he found on every side,

But nowhere found his child.

“Hell-hound! My child’s by thee devoured,”

The frantic father cried;

And to the hilt his vengeful sword

He plunged in Gelert’s side.

Aroused by Gelert’s dying yell,

Some slumberer wakened nigh;

What words the parent’s joy could tell

To hear his infant’s cry

Concealed beneath a tumbled heap

His hurried search had missed,

All glowing from his rosy sleep

The cherub boy he kissed.

No hurt had he, nor harm, nor dread,

But, the same couch beneath,

Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead,

Tremendous still in death.

Ah, what was then Llewellyn’s pain!

For now the truth was clear;

His gallant hound the wolf had slain

To save Llewellyn’s heir.

This ones popular in our school

Oor wee schools a great wee school,

it's made of bricks and plaster,

the only thing that's wrang wi it is the baldy heided master.

He goes to the pub on a Saturday night and he goes to church on Sunday,

he prays to god to gie him strength,

to murder the weans on Monday