The Bard’s Oration

IMG_0289My top mate, Bill Hill, is the Bard for Balerno Burns Club, home of the ‘Let it Blaw’ Burns Supper. So far, I haven’t been able to attend the supper as it falls, unsurprisingly, on a Saturday close to Burns Night: a date on which I tend to be a little busy ;o) I really must make the effort at an early opportunity to make the acquaintance of the supper, because it really does look like a stoater when I see the talented people who attend.

Anyway, Bill is the club’s ‘Bard’, a qualification which few live up to, but one to which Bill is certainly entitled. He has written some of the funniest things in Scots which you’re ever likely to hear. I urge you to go have a listen to his ‘To a Mealie Puddin’ Supper’, or his ‘Viva Dunbar’, and if you’ve only ever heard The Corries sing ‘The Portree Kid’ you really ought to check out the original.

At the supper each year, it’s Bill’s duty and honour to put the year’s events in perspective. Please enjoy here his offering for this year. I claim copyright, humbly, on ‘Long John Silver Surfer’ ;o)


This year has been a queer one, wi all its ups and downs
Wi’ natural disasters and folk wha act like clowns
Birds falling oot the heavens deid or fish washed up on shore
Earthquakes in Haiti and floods in Bangalore
Volcanoes ower in Iceland might suggest a master plan
By an angry, vengeful deity, tae punish foolish man
I think its something simple, The answer’s in my palms
For everything that e’er goes wrong I blame it on the trams

‘We’re all in this together’, or so George Osbourne said
Then buggered of tae Klosters, tae Ski wi’ Fred the Shred?
Or just some other Eton types and military rankers?
I’m struggling now tae find a rhyme that goes wi’ merchant bankers
And speaking o’ these bankers they’ll a’ still get their bonus
While we the humble tax payers will have tae bear the onus.
But I can’t blame these overpaid and over privileged bams,
So I’ll write tae the evening News and blame the bloody trams.

We’ve had Arctic weather, frost and snaw and ice tae mak’ ye stumble,
While the Cooncil did what it does best, prevaricate and bumble.
The big freeze it went on and on and still the Cooncil dithered.
The Cooncillors got their streets cleared while we a’ slipped and slithered
While we were forced tae walk on ice, masel’ Ah hud the jitters
I still believe in Santa but I don’t believe in gritters
But I’m no’ blamin’ climate change whilst stuck in traffic jams
And I’m no’ blamin’ potholes I blame the bloody trams.

Noo Silvio Berlusconi we a’ know is a chancer,
Has got himsel’ in trouble wi a teenage belly dancer
It is just the latest scandal for this randy geriatric
Wi’ his interest in younger girls that’s almost paediatric
So this Italian premier looks sleazy and so silly
All for his love of prostitutes and his unruly Willie
But I don’t blame his interest in call girls and madames
Or even on Viagra, I blame it on the trams

The Spirit of Adventure to Zanzibar was bound
Unaware Somali pirates were close by to be found
The ship was full of pensioners all on a SAGA cruise,
Wi’ tea dances aye and bingo and the odd wee sip of booze
Were the pirates geriatrics too? I really have to ask,
Led by Long John Silver Surfer, was he equal tae the task?
Geriatric pirate stereotypes is a very rich bonanza,
So I’ll leave the trams aside for now and write another stanza!

Did they fly the Grumpy Rodger above the wizened mast?
Did they still indulge in yo ho ho or were those days truly past?
Did their timbers really shiver and did the gallant crew
O’ hardly able seamen still remember what to do?
And when they spliced the mainbrace when the day came tae an end
Was it done with a tot o’ rum or just Sanatogen?
No need tae further speculate, the content o’ their drams
The subject is exhausted, so back tae the bloody trams.

Now we come to Katy Price, or Jordan, as it fits
Famed for porno movies and her massive plastic … bits
Getting married tae 2 saddo men and writing children’s books
D’ye think that Peter Andre is as glaikit as he looks?
She’s made a mint exposing every facet of her life
And now she asks for privacy, it cuts me like a knife
And as for poor Max Clifford and a’ the tabloid bams
They’re really devastated so they’ll blame it on the trams

Next up comes Kelley Osborne o’ that awfy Osborne clan,
Because he cheated on her, she went and dumped her man,
But no’ wi’ anither wumman, And can you believe its true
The party was a shemale, so who did what to who?
While his upper part was female, he’s still waitin, for the op,
So his lower half is alpha male, ye couldna’ make this up!
Its the pressure of celebrity, say those quasi, showbiz hams,
Then blame for their lifestyles , but me? I blame the trams.

Now we have a new year and so far its rich and varied.
England won the ashes, Wills and Kate are getting Mairried.
They didna’ get the World cup so blamed it on Seb Blatter
And according to the BBC, that’s a’ the things that matter.
Except for the Olympics, aye London’s got them too.
Who’ll be the mugs that pay for them? You’ve guessed it, me and you.
So when the summer simmers or the cauld dreich winter clams,
Don’t blame global warming, just blame the bloody trams


JANUARY 22, 2011

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