Following on from a previous poem which failed to bring everything wished for from Santa Claus, this verse was spawned before Christmas 2009.
Whether or not this begging list to Santa was successful will no doubt be revealed in my Dear Santa 2010 thoughts, if that happens.
Dear Santa
Last year I med a Santa list
o twartree peerie tings I wissed
da auld white bearded een wid tak
ta me atil his Santa Sack.
Weel, he brocht me twartree Piltock flees
an böts dat cam up tae me knees
he furyat da new airs fir da yoal
bit I got eens paid fir wi da dole.
I aksed him fir a dreultin tree
bit neevir cam dat ting ta me
instead he sent a gruelie tree
language confusion, him no me.
So maist o whit I wanted cam
an a'm blyde o aa, sic an sam
so dis years list a'm scribblin noo
ta see whit Santa's gyain ta do.
Da first a'll aks is fir guid helt
an penga ta raise me ertly welt
dan all faa upö me bended knee
an aks igyen fir yun dreultin tree.
An noo whit I aks is no fur mesel
It’s sometin ta aese Shetlan fae hell
Dear Santa, cud do fin dy wye clear
ta replace da cooncil, dis comin year.
Auld Rasmie
Sadly my ugly face fell in front of a camera to record this one. I think it was actually the result of a very bad bottle of wine, or maybe two very bad bottles of wine. Either way here's the poem, in roughly the way I tried to envisage it when it was written...
Whether or not this begging list to Santa was successful will no doubt be revealed in my Dear Santa 2010 thoughts, if that happens.
Dear Santa
Last year I med a Santa list
o twartree peerie tings I wissed
da auld white bearded een wid tak
ta me atil his Santa Sack.
Weel, he brocht me twartree Piltock flees
an böts dat cam up tae me knees
he furyat da new airs fir da yoal
bit I got eens paid fir wi da dole.
I aksed him fir a dreultin tree
bit neevir cam dat ting ta me
instead he sent a gruelie tree
language confusion, him no me.
So maist o whit I wanted cam
an a'm blyde o aa, sic an sam
so dis years list a'm scribblin noo
ta see whit Santa's gyain ta do.
Da first a'll aks is fir guid helt
an penga ta raise me ertly welt
dan all faa upö me bended knee
an aks igyen fir yun dreultin tree.
An noo whit I aks is no fur mesel
It’s sometin ta aese Shetlan fae hell
Dear Santa, cud do fin dy wye clear
ta replace da cooncil, dis comin year.
Auld Rasmie
Sadly my ugly face fell in front of a camera to record this one. I think it was actually the result of a very bad bottle of wine, or maybe two very bad bottles of wine. Either way here's the poem, in roughly the way I tried to envisage it when it was written...
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