Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 173: Dumfries


A wee bird telt me, the Galloway gulls are
faur an’ away oot o’ order every day.

These mad birds o’ Dumfries,
thieve yer sanny or yer piece.
An’ whit’s more am told,
unlike they gulls of old
these avian hoodies,
hae no respect fur yer goodies.
They skive aff wae yer lunch
an’ spatter a’ wae their gunge.

Oor local worthies held a summit,
Summat maun be done, ca’ the police.
Gie them an asbo at the very least.
Lock them up, shoot them doon,
fur darin’ tae dive bomb oan oor toon.

But the cheeky wee carrion carry oan
wae their natural proclivations,
deef to a’ their proclamations.


Theresa O’Hare

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