Like dafties we paid siller for pain
Breaking joints and spine on Edinburgh’s outlying lungs
The Arctic blast in April filleted the SAS team out;
Never mind the bands playing to the blue skinned
Natives and guests from all parts.
Yet it is as nothing to what hunger does,
What hatred carves out in many a heart and place
When you have a finish that is there not hidden
There is not much to get over
Just some pure Scottish rain pelting Saint and Sinner alike.
Having had a good response to a running piece-here’s one for all and KS-time for another?