THUMBS UP

Does anyone here own a set of golf clubs?
And does your wife nag if you use them?
(Some wives are quite happy to use local pubs
To avoid the golf club’s sad amusements)

But men bred in Fife are a different class.
For golf is their only addiction.
And though they may not be averse to a glass
To accuse them of more would be fiction

This story begins on the Leven golf course,
On the tee at the eighth, a par 5.
My good friend, Wee Ginger, was bad, getting worse,
Had developed a hook with each drive.

THE SONG OF THE TRANSPORTEE or

AUSSIE IMMIGRATION RULES

This ship sets sail for the end of the world,
And I am chained on board, restrained.
Else I would leap right over her side,
To reach you, my true love.

These Northern lights I’ll see no more,
Tears make them hazy, I’m half – crazy,
I leave you now, to live the rest of my life,
Without you, my true love.

THE HERON FLIES – HOMEWARD ‘CROSS THE EVENING SKIES.
BUT YOU AND I – NEVER MORE WITH YOU I’LL LIE.

If my mind is ever present
and my solitude's a friend,
dark ideas lead to actions
darker actions, towards a trend;

a stoic calm is my exterior
never, ever break a sweat,
in the hollow of my inner being
I've this appetite to whet.

Within the chasm where my soul goes
a dank pulsating yearns to start,
tuning out the distant conscience
because I haven't any heart !

Alone, I found myself with kids all grown
so I guess fate had given the nod,
there was nothing at all hindering me
so I decided to sail abroad.

I'd always yearned to see Europe
it appeared I'd been granted my wish,
so I traveled through England and Scotland, too
where I was also allowed to go fish!

When I returned I met with my daughter
for some ale, and a three foot-long sub;
I wanted to share of my journey
so we went to our favorite "pub".

Of days of old, the harpers sing,
of Melegrond, their fallen king.
The time the Calotans were wronged,
and gathered they; a sullen throng.

Naught would lift their great sadness:
as one, they wept in brokenness.
In sullen quiet, silenced, stood
as Nature likened to their mood.

It started like a play at work
I saw some scary shaded forms
Meet a good sister of a friend
The rest is a tall tale you hear

Our people say this all the time
A trickster does not put his hand
In the pocket of one his kind
Lest the two pass others their mess

Looks deceive people a whole lot
The more innocent, the least suspect
Grave is the danger it can cause
Vigilance becomes the watchword

.
THE EMPTY GLENS
1795
There's a tall ship in the harbour,
Waiting for the evening tide,
Dewdrops fall, like tears, from rigging,
Weeping for my clan's lost pride.

Morning mist lies on the water,
Footprints fading in wet sand.
I am boarding with my kinsmen
Never more to see this land.

In the glen our houses burning,
As the Earl's men torch the roofs,
Burnt - out ruins scar the landscape,
How will others find the truth?