On the Boris Johnson is elected into the highest office in the land, I came across this poem.
Fashion. 23rd July 2019.
They’ve fashioned ye tae take their blame
Ye’re even proud tae take their shame
An’ prouder still tae gie yer hame
A’ done in Scotland’s name!
They drag ye doon but you want mair
As brawn, no’ brain, gie’s oot its stare
Aye! You’re the anes that keep them there
The cringe a’ Scots despair!
They split ye up wi’ creed an’ race
Then watched ye grovel in disgrace
An’ let ye stare death in the face
Tae keep ye in yer place.
Their bloodless deaths ye cannae hide
Injections, sanctions, suicides
It’s a’ part o’ their great divide
An’ wi’ them ye staun wi’ pride?
Where’s that independent roar
Where’s that pride yer faithers bore
Ye surrendered tae the British whore
Like sae many aft afore.
Ye gied rights like rebellious weans
An’ in return they gied ye chains
Look whit ye hud an’ whit remains,
Tell me, whit’s yer gains!