NONSENSE VERSE

 Scotch Bonnet or Botched Sonnet

 

Morag was my comely bride

She gave birth before she died

Our pale babe did not survive

A very nasty case of hives

And then the Redcoats occupied

Our murky bogs and River Clyde

The laird’s land all up and dried

His tartan flocks they did not thrive

I broke my staff, knelt and cried

For mighty Robbie Burns had lied

I could not ask the poet why

No grey mutton in my Scotch pie

I distilled the peat ‘neath the sky

Drank cheers to life and a another try       

             

meGeoff has been your most unreliable, unbalanced and inaccurate alternative source of depressing Celtic laments since 2013. Sign up for e-mail alerts from the Crooked 9, use that thingy on the right. It’s safe to emerge from isolation now, honest. Everything’s copasetic.