Okay, it’s a fair cop, guv. I’ve turned into a grumpy old man. And the grumps have been mounting lately. For a start, I get hacked off every year by all those folk who take part in Bonfire Night, not knowing that they’re actually celebrating the grisly execution of a revolutionary. Then there are those Scotsmen who insist on demonstrating their Scottishness by wearing dress kilts, totally unaware of the history of that particular item of clothing. Not forgetting those smug Little Englanders who voted to Brexit. And last, but by no means least, are the redneck imbeciles who have created the Trumpastrophe.
Anyway, the aforementioned grumps have turned into another poetic Gisby McRant, aptly entitled Morons. Here it is. Fuck, I’ve also turned into a poet!
Well, all you good Catholic folk,
Did you take part in the sick joke
When you watched the bonfire burn bright
And rockets explode in the night,
When you rejoiced the awful death
Of that Spanish man of your faith
Who was a member of a ring
Set to blow up a Proddie king?
Did you hear the Cath’rine wheels zing
And throw another Fenian on the fire,
You morons?
Well, all you proud Scottish menfolk,
Did you take part in England’s joke
And wear your kilt and sgian-dubh
To that wedding or fancy do,
Not knowing that your tailored dress
Was invented by His Highness,
Wee fat King Geordie, the German,
Who decreed the Highland plaid ban?
Did you birl your kilt and sporran
And throw another clansman on the fire,
You morons?
Well, all you happy Brexit folk,
Did you take part in your own joke
To turn your green and pleasant land
Into sad Little Engerland,
Sans multicultural baggage,
Sans standing on the big world stage,
With no allies to watch your back
And no hostile neighbours to lack?
Did you wave your wee Union Jack
And throw another migrant on the fire,
You morons?
Well, all you redneck Trumpite folk,
Did you cause the world’s biggest joke,
Electing the blond-haired bully
And giving him mandate fully
To practise his mantra of hate
Throughout the disunited States,
Setting race rights back fifty years
And giving women untold fears?
Did you yell out your fascist jeers
And throw another wetback on the fire,
You morons?
Anyway, the aforementioned grumps have turned into another poetic Gisby McRant, aptly entitled Morons. Here it is. Fuck, I’ve also turned into a poet!
Well, all you good Catholic folk,
Did you take part in the sick joke
When you watched the bonfire burn bright
And rockets explode in the night,
When you rejoiced the awful death
Of that Spanish man of your faith
Who was a member of a ring
Set to blow up a Proddie king?
Did you hear the Cath’rine wheels zing
And throw another Fenian on the fire,
You morons?
Well, all you proud Scottish menfolk,
Did you take part in England’s joke
And wear your kilt and sgian-dubh
To that wedding or fancy do,
Not knowing that your tailored dress
Was invented by His Highness,
Wee fat King Geordie, the German,
Who decreed the Highland plaid ban?
Did you birl your kilt and sporran
And throw another clansman on the fire,
You morons?
Well, all you happy Brexit folk,
Did you take part in your own joke
To turn your green and pleasant land
Into sad Little Engerland,
Sans multicultural baggage,
Sans standing on the big world stage,
With no allies to watch your back
And no hostile neighbours to lack?
Did you wave your wee Union Jack
And throw another migrant on the fire,
You morons?
Well, all you redneck Trumpite folk,
Did you cause the world’s biggest joke,
Electing the blond-haired bully
And giving him mandate fully
To practise his mantra of hate
Throughout the disunited States,
Setting race rights back fifty years
And giving women untold fears?
Did you yell out your fascist jeers
And throw another wetback on the fire,
You morons?