Wednesday, 14 August 2013

To a Bee

Thir’s a bee oan yer back Churchie,
Thir’s a bee oan yer back,
But ye wouldnae really want me,
Tae say that.

You ken better,
Coz ye spoke tae The Man,
An’ Eh jist didnae treh hard enough,
Or Eh’m jist no in yer plan.

Well thir’s still a bee oan yer back,
An' he’s crawlin’ aboot,
An' mibbe gonnae sting,
He wiz happy ootside,
But then in he flew,
Tae find esel’ oan yer faithful pew,
Lehin’ there oan you, oan you,
Wha tells me whit tae think,
When aw that Eh can think right now,
Is will the stinger sink?

Thir’s a bee oan yer back Churchie,
But Eh’ll keep it tae m’sel’,
Seein’s you ken better whit’s goin’ oan,
An’ you ken better wha’s goin’ tae Hell.

Well, he’s still there Churchie,
An dinnae you look daft,
Wi’ that wee buzzer crawlin’ ah aboot ye,
Baith in yer best Sunday gaffe,
Ye can tell iz whit tae say,
An’ ye can tell iz whit Eh cannae,
Ye can mak oot that ye dinnae shite,
An’ that ye’ve never had a fanny,
But wee Buzzy’s goin’ naewhere,
In front o’ whaur Eh’m sat,
An’ he’s no such a hypocrite,
Like Burns was no nae twat.

But Eh couldnae care less for nothin’,
‘Cept right now for that bee,
Eh hope he doesnae fleh awa’,
Afore anyone can see,
Eh hope he stings you in the heid,
And gies you michty woe,
Then Eh’ll believe the scriptures,
O’ reapin’ whit ye sow.

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