Nay fair weather friends need apply ©
(For all who suffer from supporting the Scottish Football team, whilst living in England.)
Dalton in Furness, England
Tay me, there’s two kinds o’ ex-pat fans.
Tho they baith end up, wi their heeds in their hands.
Resigned tay their fate, or hoping furra treat?
Efter 90 minutes, they’re baith lookin at their feet.
And yet they baith still don the shirt,
that signals tay their neighbours,
“A connoisseur of BRAVE DEFEATS,
fashioned by life’s long labours!”
(A secret envy hides deep down,
for those who hail fay London town.
Wid we really swap aw oor glorious fights,
or does winning by cheatin, never enter oor sights?)
Will Jules Rimet, fur ever be,
oor sacred, accursed coo?
“D’ye think it’s aw ower?” the question asked.
Aye! And no joost fur noo!
“You’re nay King Edward, or Jersey Royal!”
We told Mr. Wolstenholme later.
Compared tay oor Archie McPherson,
You were just a common ‘tater!
But hope must spring eternal.
And even though oor weather’s wetter,
I’ve a sneaky suspicion they envy us too,
coz oor National Anthem’s better.
And so I’ll don my optimist’s cap,
and Rose-glasses, it would seem?
And no matter what the scoreline is,
I’ll say, “We were still the best team!”