For Eck

O Alex as yi sit there on there on yir cludgie stane,

think lang and hard o the fouk at hame,

Wha can see right through yir spin.

Yir romatic pish speeled through a grin.

The folk o Scotland irny daft

Can your drivel and yir tosh,

We’ll  mak our mind up sain enough.

And send yi reeling far up north.

Tae lick yir wounds.

Your rhetoric of `our free land`

is wearing thin, becoming bland.

Your constant diatribe maks mae blood bile

Hammering on aboot Scotland’s oil.

The black blood which lies beneath oor seas

He thinks will pave oor streets, we gold

A this based on an auld report

By McCrone, written in times of old.

He promised much but little wiz given

Teachers, doctors and health care wimin

But what he really means tae dae

is divide this nation, unfairly.

His hatred for our southerly cousins

Becomes apparent in oor Commons

When he spouts his nationalistic try

`Freedom for Scotland` is his cry.

We need this union more than ever

To mak this Tory farce deliver.

There’s folk oot there losing their joabs,

their pensions, hooses, wir being robbed.

So Eck let the nation speak.

Let the voters mak their mark.

So this pipedream can be bedded,

and we get on we what is needed.

United we should face this farce

no divided, no apart.