Who is Scar Quilse?

Born in a trowie mound (or Pictish broch) behind Mavis Grind in the North Mainland of Shetland, Scar Quilse is an enigma wrapped in a Fair Isle gansie. Or a conundrum. Or both.

Scar is a distant cousin of the infamous "musician" Zander 'Blind Boy' Flugga, eventually banned from appearances on BBC Radio Scotland after the unfortunate 'Dolphinsludgegate' events.

He is well known in the isles for his peculiar beard.

Monday, 30 June 2014

Making History (The Bannockburn Live! Song)

I always wanted to be Robert the Bruce
Bonnie Scotland I would save
I lined the garden shed with loft insulation
And built myself a cave
Then I got myself a spider
From a pet shop in Mothereell
Tied it to a string, watched it swing
Till it began to smell

Mum knitted me some chain mail
From some very lovely Shetland wool
I sprayed it Volvo grey and then one Friday
I wore it to the school
I got a kicking in the playground
They tore my chainmail to bits
I swore vengeance on they English
Even though I lived in Coatbridge

 Oh Bannockburn
Or maybe it was Flodden
Or it could have been Culloden
It's all the same to me
Stirling bridge or Prestonpans
I'm just a simple fighting man
Plastic broadsword in my hands
I'm making history

In our re-enactment society
We re-enact an awful lot
We did the Battle of Jutland
On Queen's Park Pond with some model yachts
for Bannockburn I said I'd be Robert
But it was all stitched up before
I played the front end of Edward the Second's horse
Which wisnae what I signed up for

All rights reserved. By Scar Quilse, 2014

Wednesday, 25 June 2014

Sturgeon Wall (The Buckfast Song)

Sturgeon Wall (The Buckfast song)

Barbed wire on the border
Got to cross The Sturgeon Wall
Barbed wire on the border
Got to cross the Sturgeon Wall
You should see the tailbacks on the A7 at Mosspaul

Checking the lorries
I'm no' pleased
Got sixty crates of Buckfast heading for Dundee

The monks don't like it,
The monks don't like it
The monks don't like it, naebody likes it
Take my freedom if you like that's fine
You’ll never  take my tonic wine

Immigration man
He's wearing tartan trews
And a wee Mac10 submachine gun he's dying to use

Looking for a payoff
In those daft Caledonian groats
In my passport, sonny
there's 200 million note
That'll buy a few votes

Now I'm heading for Tayside
With my electric soup
Everybody in Broughty Ferry is pure dead cockahoop


Copyright Scar Quilse 2014. All rights reserved.

Monday, 16 June 2014

It Wisnae Me (The CyberNat Song)

Two tins of superlager, feeling no pain
I start typing away as fast as wee Patrick Kane
Searching for unionists on the internet
I hunt them down like dogs every chance I get
It wisnae me
It wisnae me
I’m as nice as nice can be
I don’t even shout at the BBC
Unless I’m pissed
Then I turn into a nationalist

They say I’m a Nazi, what a load of dross
You take just one selfie with one iron cross
It wisnae even real I made it myself
From a Commando Comic cover and some fuzzy felt

That wee Ruth Davidson, she does karate
I’ll just pretend I’m in the Tory Party
If she turns up at the front door of my hoose
And then I’ll turn my pitbull Nicola loose

See all yon civic nationalism stuff?
After a while everybody's had enough
You don’t say you hate the English till you’ve had a few drams
Then you hit that keyboard and you feel like a real man

It wisnae me, it wisnae me
I'm as nice as nice can be
I never even shout at the BBC
Unless I'm pished
Then I turn into a nationalisht...

Sunday, 15 June 2014

Bastards in the North (The Blossom Song)

If you go wandering in our kilt-infested streets
You may receive a friendly wave from everyone you meet
These are exceptions that prove the rule
Really we're just planning to deport you southern fools

Better stay inside and don't go out, friend
If you do, your illusions may come to an end
I love those words that are coming from your mouth
But there's just as many bastards in the north
As in the south

You may have heard our tartan doors are never locked
But in the hallways shotguns sit, they're loaded and they're cocked
For the most part we are polite
Secretly we're planning to provoke you into flight

And there are places no visitor should walk
We'll kill and eat you if we hear the southern way you talk
Unless of course you are prepared to pay
Just give us lots of money and quickly go away

And if you settle here, if you think we're nice
If you buy a burnt out cottage at the incomer's price
Maybe you've seen that film, The Wicker Man?
The person who was in that house before you understands

Bettter stay inside and don't go out friend
If you do your illusions may come to an end
I love those words that are coming from your mouth
But there's just as many bastards in the north
As in the south