Scottish Exopolitical Protest.
Andrew Hennessey 14/02/08
A concrete jungle paves Ayrshire fields
And Scottish manhood dreams of space
Or Buckfast wine in his disgrace
No excise [tax] on this jobless place
No corn riggs or fresh breeze on the face,
But there instead a joyless type of farming
bought and sold for genetic gold
The price of getting into space
An end to the humanity of race
For in the dark under alien gaze
An alien harvest in the toon [town]
And on the tarmac you see him pace
The Ghost of Robert Burns.
Our Parcel of Rogues
In kilt and brogues [shoes]
Address the haggis and toast the lassies
Their dignities an a’ that
Dead sciences an a’ that
Mars and Europa an a’ that
And the dark side of the moon.
And man to man the world o’er
would be brothers in a fruitless dust
And surely as the world turns
As surely as the ships
With accusations on his lips
The Ghost of Robert Burns.
What proud usurpers shall bear degree
And be Laird [Lord] abune [above] the honest man.
Who shall lift the name of Burns and make of it a joke
Who shall use the life of Burns to ease the tyrants yoke ..
‘Grant me indulgent Heaven, that I may live to see
the miscreants feel the pain they give,
Deal Freedoms sacred treasures free as air,
Till slave and Despot be but things that were ..’
Till the rights of man shall be upheld
That billions under threat of end
Shall we with angelic host defend
As even now the tide it turns
And in that throng, it wont be long,
At the dawning of the day, we see,
The Ghost of Robert Burns.