Merlin Wha Hae
I am a weird and wondrous wizard,
Filled with whisky, full of banter.
But I possess a tartan gizzard -
What? pointy hat? No - tam o'shanter.
King Arthur was no Christian king –
All that's a fib, an English fable.
He liked a dram, he loved to sing
And fling his limbs. His Rounded Table
Was ringed with chieftans, thane or laird,
With Galahads from Galashiels.
His beard was red, his legs were bared,
And how he loved his eightsome reels.
He sang no Land Of Hope And Glory;
He prayed that sassenachs be scattered;
He never, ever voted Tory;
He liked to eat his Mars Bars battered.
In London, where the laws are biroed,
Where laws are scrawled on English papers,
They know that Merlin took the high road,
They know he breathed the Scottish vapours.
My ghost is waiting, full of curses,
My claymore longs to claim the town –
To London, where the public purse is!
Aye, think on Merlin, Gordon Brown.
