A defiant coronavirus poem written in the style of Burns has emerged online and it would be rude not to share it. An expanded version sent courtesy of PP Fraser Fowlie. I am told it was authored by a Willie Sinclair.
Twa months ago, we didna ken,
yer name or ocht aboot ye;
But lots of things have changed since then,
I really must salute ye.
Yer spreading rate is quite intense,
Yer feeding like a gannet;
Disruption caused, is so immense,
Ye’ve shaken oor wee planet.
Corona used tae be a beer,
They garnished it wae limes;
But noo it’s filled us a' wae fear,
These days are scary times.
Nae shakin hawns, or peckin lips,
It’s whit they a' advise;
But scrub them weel, richt tae the tips,
That’s how we’ll a' survive.
Just stay inside, the hoose, ye bide,
Nae sneakin' oot for strolls;
Just check the lavvy every hoor,
And stock-take your loo rolls.
Our holidays have been pit aff,
Noo that’s the Jet2 patter;
Pit oan yer thermals, have a laugh,
And paddle ‘ doon the waater. ‘
Canary isles, no for a while,
Nae need for suntan cream;
And a' because o' this wee bug,
We ken tae be..19.
The boredom surely will set in,
But have a read, or doodle;
Or plan yer menu for the month,
Wi' 95 pot noodles.
When these run oot, just look aboot,
A change, it would be nice;
We’ve beans and pasta by the ton,
And twenty stane o rice.
So dinny think yell wipe us oot,
Aye true, a few have died;
Bubonic, bird flu, and Tb
They came, they left, they tried.
Ye might be gallus noo ma freen,
As ye jump fae cup tae cup;
But when we get oor vaccine made,
Yer number will be up
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