There wis a cooncillor...

(tae the tune o A Scottish Soldier)


There wis a cooncillor, a Labour cooncillor,
she had been oot aw day, this wis a Saturday
She wis a cooncillor, this Labour cooncillor,
She'd focht oan pollin day, an focht an won...

She beat the Tory, an loved tae bore ye
wi tales sae spurious an mak ye furious,
but noo she's silent, cos she wis violent,
an lamped the long airm o the law...

An she wis reelin, she wis squealin,
"Ah'm a cooncillor! Ah'm a cooncillor!"
Oh she wis reelin, she wis squealin,
"Don't you know who I-ee am?"

An noo this cooncillor, this Labour cooncillor,
who had been oot aw day an drinkin hard aw day
tho nearly fallin, heard music callin,
wantit tae dance away until the dawn...

She hailed a taxi, doon tae the Palais,
where she could dance away, an pit mair drink away
but when she got there, there wis a queue there,
an there the long airm o the law...

An she wis reelin, she wis squealin,
"Ah'm a cooncillor! Ah'm a cooncillor!"
She wis reelin god she wis squealin,
"Don't you know who I-ee am?"

Noo see this cooncillor, this Labour cooncillor,
been oan the lash aw day, an actin flash aw day,
So up she goes there, richt tae the door there,
she thocht that she could go walkin in...

They widnae let her, an that upset her,
mind she wis stocious, behaved atrocious,
an noo she's silent, cos she got violent,
an lamped the long airm o the law...

As she wis deckin him, she wis threatenin him,
"Ah'm a cooncillor! Ah'm a cooncillor!"
She wis abusin him as she wis bruisin him,
"Don't you know who I-ee am?"

Oh she wis reelin, she wis squealin,
"Ah'm a cooncillor!" Ah'm a cooncillor!"
She wis freakin an she wis shriekin,
"Don't you know who I-ee am?"

Whit's that smell?

Whenever ah lift ma nose fae the grindstone th'noo, ah can smell the sweet scent o desperation in the air. Ah smell it in the froth surroundin the Yes campaign launch, when the Daily Record actually finds a picture o celebration oan the website as worthy o comment an criticism, ah smell it in the Olympics coverage as a harsh, vindictive, budget-slashin posh-boy government tries tae justify blawin billions oan a three-week-long sports day, but ah smell it maist keenly in this weekend's jewel-encrusted jubilee jamboree as oor establishment draws its cheeks in tightly an tries tae convince us that an unelected birthright encapsulates an represents this country tae the world. Weel here's a thing, Elizabeth Mountbatten-Schleiswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glucksberg-Windsor-Saxe-Coburg-Gotha-Wettin-Hohenzollern-Tak-Yer-Pick disnae represent me...

When Scotland decides in 2014 that it's time tae tak oor place among the ither nations o the world, ah'd like us tae follae maist ither modern nations an pick that yin human bein that represents us as the heid o oor state. Noo whether we cry that person oor President, or whether we cry them somethin like Duke or Duchess o Albany, or even King or Queen o Scots is up tae us, but the main thing is we should pick them, an the position should be term-limited. Onybody that bides in Scotland could go fer that position, so Anne Laurence could go fer it if she flits here, as could Alex Salmond, as could Jimmy Krankie, as could the Rastatramp, as could ah, as could ony o Jock Tamson's bairns...

Let's no be bound by oor past, let's be freed by oor future...