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On Geatin Ma Quottes Wrang ©

Marc R. Sherland
Glasgow, Scotland

He wroat it "Double, double toil an trouble;"
Aye thocht it "Hubble-bubble, whaers tha rhumble;"
It's as weel that me an Shaekespeare go weel bak,
It's jist ma memori that fael af trak,
Tha trubble af aw this fanci moden script,
Is not at aw, as he wis want tae writ,
Fer Scoatish prose an voices o' witches,
Will, goat it wrang, an ended in stitches.
So I abridged as he wis want tae do,
An tho yer blaw, an think me stuppit noo,
I still maintain ma point, it should be hubble,
Cos its cosmic aim maks mine the double,
As fer tha bubble, noo mine's yer pin haes bust,
Just like Macbeth's sad fate, I feel me cussed.
So if yer want tae challenge me, ya bloat,
We'el hae a rhumble noo, an yoo I'll stoat.

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