Pure Dead Amazing (The Commonwealth Games Song)

The Trongate's so clean I licked up my spilt pakora sauce last night
I got the late bus home to Possil and I didn't see a single fight
All the junkies are in a big shed at Weirs of Cathcart
They're getting sent to Edinburgh when the festival starts
And everything is pure dead amazing in Freedom City now The queue at Mother India is longer than the River Clyde
There are bowlers in the park eating pizzas that've been deep fried
I'm going to take up Judo it's right up my street
Though I'll not wear pyjamas or be in bare feet
Everything is pure dead amazing in the Freedom City now

 Pure dead amazing and brilliant and completely sublime
All the poor folk are invisible, and nobody's committing crime
Nobody gets beat up here for being gay
At least not in the west end, or not every day
Everything is pure dead amazing in the city now

 See when it's over, it'll still be fantastic then
Dalmarnock's on the up and up, it's gonna be the new Bearsden
Cappuccino and focaccia and juice bars too
Life expectancy for men will rise to 52
Everything is pure dead amazing in the city now

 Copyright Scar Quilse, 2014

Naebody Ever Asked Me (The Opinion Poll Song)

I’m quiet as a moose

I very rarely leave the hoose     

Shop at the Co-op, Tesco, never

(Except if I’m desperate, cause they deliver)

I’m hardly young, but I’m no very old

I don’t like doing what I’m told

Folk say they speak for me on television

But they never asked for my permission

Naebody ever asked me

Naebody ever asked me

I’m a simple soul, I’m no in they polls

Naebody ever asked me

I call him Max for short, he’s a rescue pug

Maxton’s too long a name for a dug

My pal Sue’s got a mutt called Karl, a Staffie

She walks  him in the park, she likes to wear her baffies

Naebody ever asked me....

So will I make to the polling station

To seal the fate of this wee nation?

I’ll make it if I have to crawl

Karl and Max’ll be there and all

And me and and Sue too, you will see

We'll be voting for solidarity

For the union of the working class

Our voices will be heard at last

I could've tellt you, but you never asked...

Naebody ever asked me...

Copyright Scar Quilse 2014. All rights reserved.

One Pair o'Tartan Trews (The Fashion Song)

(Inspired by a true, or trew, story, which you can read in The Telegraph here:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/scotland/10359238/Alex-Salmonds-secrecy-battle-over-250-tartan-trews.html

One pair o’ tartan trews

What was Wee Eck trying tae do?

He can’t wear a kilt

Cause his bum gets aw chillt

And his knees get aw frostbitten too

Two hundred and fifty pounds

Ah but somehow the money was found

The taxpayer paid

The trews were tailor made

The first minister’s joy was profound

They were worn at a Chinese ball

Eck didnae go down well at all

Another Panda he sought

Bits of chicken he got

Deep fried in sweet and sour balls

He’s repaid the money at last

And those trews are a thing of the past

For as Wee Eck  expands

He needs elastic bands

To keep his pull-ups at half mast

Now the Commonwealth Games are here

And oor athletes have bonny new gear

It’s the tartan frae hell

Wee Eck’s got some as well

Made into a simmet I fear.

New Scotland (The Camper Van Song)

A camper van called Scotland

I bought a camper van on eBay

I was a wee bit nervous

The guy said he’d got it from

The St John’s Ambulance Service

He’d fitted it with a double bed

And a woodburning stove

When I got off the train in Preston to pick it up

I just fell in love

Two hundred thousand miles

It had independent suspension

Ran out of fuel on the Great North Road

I wasn’t paying attention

When the guy said it was thirsty

I thought he meant he liked a drink

Not 10 miles to the gallon

I guess I just didn’t think

I called it Scotland

My beloved Scotland

It’ll take me everywhere I want to roam

Scotland, my beloved Scotland

Don’t ever tell me Scotland’s not my home

I got a tow to a caravan site

I lit the stove and settled down

It was somewhere in Northumbria

I drank  my first can of Newcastle Brown

I found I quite enjoyed the place

The folk seemed just the same

I met a girl from Penrith called Tracy

MacMillan was her middle name

That was fifteen years ago

I’ve hardly been north since

I even found a chip shop

Sells Morton’s Rolls with mince

Sometimes I go to Peebles

That’s just like Edinburgh only wee

I suppose I live in England

It’s all Scotland to me

Copyright Scar Quilse 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

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

Lanliq!

Sanatogen!

Eldorado!

ScotsMac

Copyright Scar Quilse 2014. All rights reserved.

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

But

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

But

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...