Tae a Fert

Sandy Hobbs | Letters to Ambrose Merton # 22, 2000

Sandy Hobbs
LTAM 22, 2000

This poem has been circulating recently in Paisley as a piece of photocopylore. The first line was missing from the copy supplied to me. However, since this is evidently a parody of Robert Burns’s address to a mouse, it seems likely that it ended in the word “beastie”.

Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie
Just as ye sit doon among yer kin
There sterts to stir and enormous wind*

The neeps and tatties and mushy peas
Stert working like a gentle breeze
But soon the pudding wi sauncie face**
Will have ye blawin all ower the place

Nae matter whit the hell ye dae
A’bodys gonnae have tae pay
Even if ye try to stifle
It’s like a bullet oot a rifle

Hawd yer bum tight tae the chair
Tae try and stop the leakin air
Shifty yersel fae cheek tae cheek
Prae tae God it doesnae reek

But aw yer efforts go assunder
Oot it comes like a clap a thunder
Ricochets aroon the room
Michty me a sonic boom

God almighty it fairly reeks
Hope I huvnae shit ma breeks
Tae the bog I better scurry
Aw whit the hell, its no ma worry

A’body roon aboot me chokin
Wan or two are nearly bokin
I’ll feel better for a while
Cannae help but raise a smile

Wis him! I shout with accusin glower
Alas, too late, hes just keeled ower
Ye dirty bugger they shout and stare
A dinnae feel welcome any mair

Where e’re ye go let yer wind gan’ free
Sounds like just the job for me
Whit a fuss at rabbies perty***
Ower the sake o’ won wee ferty***

* “and” should presumably be “an”.
** the haggis
*** Rabbie’s party, i.e a Burns Supper
**** “won” should presumably be “one”