An All Purpose Scots Referendum Result Poem
The day is over, night is done,
Dundonian lids are swollen red;
At dawn, a whisky-coloured sun
Lifts up and shakes its hoary head;
Thank goodness that the ship of state
Sails on alone/ together (strike
A word out). Now let’s celebrate,
And tell the past it’s on its bike.
The dead heat in the Glasgow air;
The hang of cliff; the tartan moon;
The finished photo, cropped with care;
The neck (and neck) and stone of Scone –
These memories, for good or ill,
Are captured under loch and quay:
Now Yes (or No, delete at will)
Has had its way, and all are free.
So near, so far; some loved it, shunned it;
Some split a difference, sold their souls;
Have pity for the weary pundit
Totting up the useless polls –
As day is day and night is night,
There’ll be no bunting not unstrung,
They’ll not be Jilted At First Sight,
But let the bells (or knells) be rung.
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