Fae a' the airts, an' their ain placies,
They cam tae work wi Friday facies,
Tae dae the darg and chauv awa,
Anticipate nae fun at a'
But mark oor Marcus, haggis-fed
A Wylie scheme is in his head
He minds the jesting fest he led
A whilie syne
A prize is on the go, he said
A bottlie wine
The bards gee up a keyboard canter,
Wi sneaky peeks at Tam O'Shanter,
Broons and Oor Wullie for the banter,
A drouth the spur
Like pipers' fingers on the chanter
Keys a blur
The budding Rabbies stretch and strive
And comic verse, and rhymes contrive
To win the prize, they wouldnae fuss
To shove their granny aff the bus
A sorry tale of booze addiction
Duties observed in dereliction
Production's doon tae less than half
Still, Rabbie Burns would hae a laugh!
Burns Night
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