The time and date is:
2:41 am Thursday, 29 October 2020
* Home

* Ballads
* Ballad Features
* Burns
* McGonagall
* Other Poetry
* Scottish Writers
* Scots Glossary

* Alphabetical List
* Featured List

* List of Topics

* Scottish Songs
* Modern Songs

* Submit a Poem
* Submit a Song

* Copyright
* Permission
* Privacy
* Standards

Web Links
* Other Sites

* About Us
* E-mail Us

Tay a Tragic Poet ©

Danny Reynolds
Dalton in Furness, England

Wee snivellin morbid word compiler
wha's gift is but a pox upon the smiler.
Afore the next time ye pit pen tay paper
where tap tay bottom, depressingly they taper.
Fur aw the folk who huv tay read yer guff
Have some pity. Are thay no pissed aff enough?
Encode it, use a different word
Tay make sure naybday knows joost whit ye mean.
Yer morosis o the liver, and yer boatman o'er the river
where the souls o untold dead wait in the mists,
Is that a sleekit grin, lurkin joost above yer chin?
Aye you'll be happier when we've aw slit wur wrists.

Aw, carry oan and wallow, where yer doom-filled fans will follow,
Feel the passion, yer no in it fur the money.
And when ye've writ yer masterpiece, o death and gloom so dire
when ye read it oot, we'll laugh and say..That's funny.
That is so funny, you crease me.

Web Site by IT-SERVE © 1999 - 2020 All Rights Reserved Return to top