No True Scotsmen

tartan

 

No True Scotsmen

When the news is full of more beheadings,
Bombs on busses, boots on deserts, holy war,
And drones attacking family weddings
From Benghazi to Lahore,
I turn to senator and mullah both,
And ask them, have they any peace to barter ?
Is there any hope for growth
From Casablanca to Jakarta ?

But each calls the other a shirker:
Says the senator “Ye see that Ayrab ?
He’s nae Rab, he’s a dirty Sassenach.”
The mullah snorts in his tartan Burqa:
“That Yank’s nocht but a flithy Irish !
Aye, aw pish, an’ a plastic Mac.
Now, I am a Jackobite rightly through,
As ginger as the white-on-blue,
From Samarkand to Timbuktoo !”
At this, the senator gives laldy:
“Listen, pal, I may be black,
But I still can gie ya heid a crack,
And I’ll see youse, Yaqub, if ye lookin’ a’ me !”

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