A Pointless Task

I put those leads to my nips from the battery in the car,

Hoped for the best but just ended up looking at stars.

So I drank 250ml of that lovely oral morph,

Did squat all so I wanna be squashed down to a dwarf.

A jump from Ben Nevis 2 the floor but it’s up Scotland,

N I can’t afford the petrol for my body to land.

Once I tried a blade just to try on my wrist,

But I got no blood inside me so it was a worthless risk.

I took a box of blues and then a bottle of zans,

Woke in an airbag halfway through a wall in a stolen van.

I’m running of ideas to try and top myself,

My body just doesn’t wanna seem to kill itself.

So I’m depressed n mad n sad n can hardly move,

But my bodies got something in it that won’t let me lose.

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

The Wee Little Beastie

The wee little beastie was Scottish n stout,

Had a wee dram and liked to fight n shout.

Coz that wee little beastie was a drinker no doubt,

He would blather n blither n giv his wife a good clout.

Coz his sporran an whistle was a kit so fine,

A more colourful kilt ne'r been seen til this time.

An he would wabble n wibble an sing on wine,

A more drunk wee beastie cud only exist in rhyme.

Ma old Scottish granny would walk wiv me on sand dunes,

She was my wee little gran n used to sing us wee tunes.

In da back of ma pa's car, she wud make long drives happy afternoons,

"Och Aye The Noo" and singing Scottish madness to the moon.

She would smoke like a chimney n sometimes gave me a puff,

A drag of snout so young, probably got me hooked on the stuff.

I took a very long drag and the blow out gave me a ruff cough.

N I soon got a taste for them, n I couldn't get enough..

Sunny afternoon's, n we would all go for a drive,

My sister n gran in the back, when I was only a wee five.

She used to sing a song, about an old lady, who swallowed a fly,

We didn't know why she swallowed that fly, but we hoped she didn't die.

She used to live in a high rise flat, that reached into the clouds,

Looking over the Queen of the South's ground, we could see all the crowds.

I wanted to go along to the footie, but I wasn't allowed,

But I wanted to show off my boot n shoot, n make ma pa proud.

N there was the trip up north when had to say goodbye to ma grandma,

It was a sad old time coz we would see her no more.

Aye the funeral was sad but the wake was no chore,

We told tales of lore as the men sat n chat, n lots of whisky was poured.

Now every year on Rabbie Burns night we sit and take turns,

From her book of Robbies poetry passed down, we all pretend to be Burns.

I like the "Wee Little Beastie " rhyme, coz it's a tale of concern,

And we all jibber n jabber, an drink until midnight comes.

On this day in January, we eat the traditional dish of Haggis tatties n neeps,

Och aye it's a Scottish dish alright, coz it's made on the cheap.

It's just potatoes, swede, n a sheeps stomach gut, filled with meat,

But it tastes so fine n it's a habit we Reid's like to keep.

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid