A Wholly Healthy Happy Scotland (the homeopathy song)

A Wholly Healthy Scotland (The Tartan Partan Song)
 I believe in Angus the Tartan Partan
I believe there are fairies at the bottom of my garden
I believe in the National Collective
 I believe that Taggart was a real detective

 And I believe in a wholly healthy, happy Scotland

 I believe that North Sea oil will last forever
I believe that Alex Salmond used to be quite clever
I read Scottish books, they’re my artistic heartland
I love that Lesley Riddoch and that Barbara Cartland I believe in a wholly healthy happy Scotland

 A pure unblemished Scotland
Where no-one gets sick or ill
That’s the promise that’s been made to us
And I believe it still
There will be no sorrow there will be no pain
And we will qualify for the World Cup again
We’ll drink cocktails made of Eldorado, Buckfast and Champagne
In Scotland A wholly healthy, happy Scotland

 Doctors say they’ll leave, but we just laugh
We’ll have nurse practitioners and homeopaths
And so much oil the North Sea’s greasy
We’ll abolish death. It’ll be quite easy

 For I believe in a wholly healthy happy Scotland

 And it will last for a thousand years
There will be no more anguish, there will be no more tears
And everything will blossom Just like Norway
Just like Norway

The Nearest Thing to Dreams (The Fergusons Song)

 The quote from the Salford poet Robert Rose jumped out at me from a tweet posted by Dumbarton MSP Jackie Baillie. Fergusons is the last non-military shipyard on the Clyde and the last of any sort on the Lower Clyde. It now being in administration, with the potential loss of 70 jobs, is a tragedy for the communities of Port Glasgow and Greenock.


“Ships are the nearest things to dreams that hands have ever made,
For somewhere deep in their oaken hearts the soul of a song is laid.”

 Robert N Rose


 Heard there’s a padlock on the gates today
Went down to check, I just walked away
The Prince of Wales for a pint or two
Try to think of something else to do

 One hundred and eleven years
That’s how long there’s been a shipyard here
Not one order on the books they say
They’re saying nothing about our back pay

 The nearest things to dreams That hands have made or ever will
Now all our hopes and dreams
Have turned to unpaid bills
Through calm and storm
Those ships are sailing still
 The nearest things to dreams

 Politicians do the stuff they always do
Say it’s very sad, that much at least is true
They say there are jobs for us, that things just might be fine
In call centres, or one pound shops, or selling junk online

 And in my house there’s pictures on my walls
Too many names for me to say them all
Flying Foam, the Flying Spray, Scotia, Sulisker
The Star Capella, Tirrick and the Shalder were built here

 The Fivla and the Loch Dunvegan, Isle of Arran, Stirling Spey
The Pharos and the Falcon, the Hebrides, the Stirling Tay
I look at them, nothing can change the way I feel
The pride and mystery of my seagoing steel

The Sovereign Will Of The Scottish People (The Panda Song)

This was inspired by a post on Roger White's 'No Thanks' blog, which you can find here: http://mercinon.wordpress.com/2014/08/07/the-sovereign-will-of-the-scottish-people/ . It analysed the repetition of the phrase 'The Sovereign Will of the Scottish People' by Alex Salmond during the recent debate on STV with Alistair Darling.

An end to the biting midge in the Highlands

The eradication of ticks

A Caramel Wafer that makes you lose weight

And every pothole fixed

That’s the Sovereign Will of the Scottish People

Motorway all the way  from Perth to Inverness

Reopen all open air swimming pools

A football team that wins the World Cup

A panda in every school

That’s the Sovereign Will of the Scottish People

The Sovereign Will of the Scottish People

There’s a phrase that rings so pure

Say it in German, say it in Russian

Maybe I’m not so sure

About the Sovereign Will of the Scottish People

Deep fried Mars Bars in every nursery

A cure for asthma found in cigarettes

Cheap flights to the  moon from Prestwick

Winning money every time you bet

On the Sovereign Will of the Scottish People

          

And it shall be so

Because we say it shall be so

And the Bank of England will do as we say

For in truth, they must obey

The Sovereign Will of the Scottish People

And when aliens arrive in their spaceships at Wick

We'll welcome them like superstars

They'll take away all the nuclear submarines

And put them on the planet Mars

For that is the Sovereign Will of the Scottish People

The Sovereign Will of the Scottish People

There’s a phrase that rings so pure

Say it in German, say it in Russian

Maybe I’m not so sure

About the Sovereign Will of the Scottish People

Scar Quilse 2014

Salmondland (The Midge Song)

Salmondland (The Midge Song)

My English friends don’t know pickled eggs must be deep fried
My English relatives - they can all move to Milngavie
My English enemies can stand at the border, weeping Union Jack tears
Wishing they could get past the minefields and settle here

It’ll be marvellous, our health service will still be there
We’ll fund it by making hydrogen from water and air
And selling it all to the Russians, they’ll be happy to pay
And then we’ll all be as rich as they are in Norway

 In Salmondland Everything will be OK
 In Salmondland Richer and happier every day
We don’t let the facts get in the way In Salmondland

I believe in a land flowing with whisky and Macaroon bars
Where the unemployed will all be reality TV stars
And everyone will be pretty and handsome and rich
And midges will be genetically changed so their bites don’t itch

But now I hear the pessimists are saying That Scotland might say no
And columnists and pop stars and care home operators
Are all looking for somewhere to go

And when the Herald and the Scotsman have been bought by the Sunday Post
And Kevin McKenna has moved to the Amalfi Coast
In my darkest moments, I’m desperate and grumpy and scared
That’s because my cousin in France has told me I can’t move there

 Copyright Scar Quilse 2014

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.