Those four years past I’ve given my Oration,
Mild pleasant rhymes to enhance presentation,
But this year I think “mild pleasant” will be scant,
Instead of a poem, I’m going to have a rant.
After much thought, my theme this year,
Back 40 years recalled with some cheer,
When I was …….. strutting about in my prime,
A full head of hair and looks divine,
An athletic figure, a picture of health,
Ambitions for a future of massive wealth,
Not a single worry in the world,
My interest in politics first unfurled.
Twas a time Trade Unions held Britain to Ransom,
Strikes, Pickets, Conflict engulfed our Nation,
“I’m part of the Union” was sung by ‘The Strawbs’
We must “Stand United” on walls brightly daubed,
“One for all and all for one,”
Screamed on the demos by father and son,
Years of upheaval and national chaos,
Times of despair and continual face-off,
Twixt Unions, Government and General Elections,
Lights going out, power disconnections,
Petrol shortages, food shelves plundered,
Three day weeks and workers hungered,
On the picket line their voices thundered,
All leading nowhere, young lives squandered.
Our workers need their representation,
To avoid going back to the age of Dickens,
But in the middle there must be a place,
Where all can live with Pride and Grace ……
….. It didn’t take me long to reach a conclusion,
I don’t want to be a member of that sort of Union.
And then came the rise of the SNP,
Highlighting problems to many and me,
About Scotland’s Union with the London machine,
Of the Unionist parties and ‘our’ Scottish Queen,
Elizabeth the Second of the English Nation,
But Elizabeth the first of the United Kingdom,
So who conspired to name her Second?
Scotland’s relevance again was lessened,
Ignoring our history, tradition threatened,
All for the sake of English opinion,
That still calls the shots in our tired old Union,
But the strings that bind us have begun to loosen.
I’ve wondered about this those 40 years,
How Scottish history was totally ignored,
How good Queen Lizzy was wrongly named,
The decision makers need royally shamed……
…… it didn’t take me long to reach another conclusion,
I don’t want to be a member of that sort of Union.
And now today, more Union tussles,
Now European in Strasbourg and Brussels,
What started as a free trade group,
Steams headlong for United Europe,
Lost sight of all its original purpose,
To buy and sell to benefit Members,
A gathering of States to make trade better,
Now gathers buffoons who cause much rancour,
They suggest what’s got to go into haggis,
Our sausages aren’t fit for Paris,
Arbroath Smokies no good for Italians,
Stornoway Puddin’s unfit for consumption,
Ecclefechan Tarts not as moist as French ones.
In Greece there’s not a penny left,
No taxes paid, the Government bereft,
Of anything at all to run the Country,
The economy a shambles to put it bluntly,
No money to live except for the gentry,
What care they if the coffers are empty?
Massive debts they borrow some more,
As a way of paying back the loan before,
And the loan before that sits gathering interest,
The ones before that drive bent bankers witless,
The first loan so old it’s hard to remember,
What it was for or how vast the number.
The Germans invited everyone to stay,
Ignoring security and issues of the day,
In their million arrivals, terrorist rackets,
To kill and maim at traditional markets,
Through the cracked Union; our borderless State,
Blood, hate and misery; will this be our fate?
Oh Angela Merkel what have you done?
You opened the gate and in they’ve come,
New Euro cousins sit over the Channel,
More used to riding to town on a camel,
Pretend refugees lying to the panel,
Who check their credentials and allow them to travel.
Thinking how stupid the British can be,
For not playing the game …. yet keeping us free.
Oh Nicola & friends watch what you’re pursuing,
I, one of yours, fear trouble is brewing,
As you advocate support of this unholy Union,
Terrorists, criminals; not all European,
The way you’re heading could be your undoing.
Set aside security and endless Greek debt,
Other EU issues we shouldn’t forget ….
They do things differently across the water,
Things we can’t fathom, things we can’t alter,
Things that are strange, things that taste coarse,
Things that are wrong and some things far worse.
Tulips in abundance in many Dutch fields,
Peaceful and vibrant before the quiet yields,
To the sound of the hubble-bubbles Dutch folk are sooking,
Marijuana, skunk, spliffs everybody’s reekin’,
A great place for coffee if you want dopey extras,
A great place for legal highs, downers and uppers,
Odd rubbery cheeses with thick red skin,
Like chomping on Pirellis and Michelins grim,
Not a hill in their land, much taken from the sea,
Big dams and windmills, as far as you see,
Wooden clogs clip clop and rattle through the town,
Speeding cycles everywhere run the tourists down.
Every day in France it’s mingin’ of ingins,
Moules-Frites and worse abominations,
Each morning testing their constitutions,
Their guts are heaving,
Roasted frog legs and horsey steaks,
Their bowels relieving.
The Eiffel Tower made of girders,
But no Irn Bru to quench its builders,
Just Bordeaux, Claret and Chateauneuf Du Pap,
Champagne, Beaujolais and stuff like that,
For sure it’s no wonder the work isn’t done,
As they wobble left and right and sit in the sun.
Over the hill in Spain things aren’t much better,
The workers down there insist on Siesta,
They spend half their days lying flat on their backs,
Reekin’ of olives gathered in sacks,
Drinking dry Sherry and eating Paella,
While criminals paddle about in Marbella,
Wi’ Full English Breakfasts and pints of bitter,
They lie in the sun sipping their liquor,
Thumbing their nose at our legal systems,
Living on earnings of poor British victims.
The Italians are different they don’t give a damn,
Posh Roman Shops, fashion from Milan,
Minestrone Soup and Pasta they savour,
Swimming in sauces of all sorts of flavour,
Stringy spaghetti gets sooked off the plate,
Squirts sauces and splatters all over the place,
Dribbles downs chins and on to their simmit,
Little red stains need scrubbed off with spirit.
Oh Iain I’m sorry but there’s 28 Countries,
I really want to mention, it’s going to take ages,
Will you shout at me too much if I just carry on?
And call me those names only a law man can?
Belgium, Portugal, Sweden, Estonia,
The Slavs, the Poles, the Croats, Latvia,
Czech, Maltese, Austrian and Dane,
All lovely people but we don’t do things the same.
Yes, I suppose I really should,
It’s time to end while the going’s still good,
To cut a long story short I’ve reached a conclusion,
I don’t want to be member of any damned Union.
Alex J Hood
28th January 2017