Nicola Sturgeon
Nippy sweetie
Make-up done
By Balfour Beatty
Nicola Sturgeon
Nippy sweetie
Goes like a bunny
Says toilet graffiti
Nicola Sturgeon
Nippy sweetie
Make-up done
By Balfour Beatty
Nicola Sturgeon
Nippy sweetie
Goes like a bunny
Says toilet graffiti
Auld baw face says
He’ll hae me on a skewer
Auld baw face says
Oor MSPs will be fewer
Auld baw face says
I ain’t no Donald Dewar
Which is fine by me
Cos Donald’s deid
Auld baw face is back
The walkin, talkin heart attack
Auld baw face
Smug as a bug in a tartan rug
Soundbite Charlie
Naebody’s mug
Auld baw face
One smart Alex right enough
Smiling sleekit
Acting tough
OO7’s favourite thug
Vote SNP or we’ll shoot your dug
Torn betting slips
Rolls of fat
Am ah supposed to be scared of that?
Pavements covered wi dog turd;
Pieces made wi lemon curd;
Drunken alkies, voices slurred;
Evening news by Jackie Bird,
Hanging oan her every word;
Ma Scotland.
Rain and wind, freezin cauld;
Slim Jim Baxter, Bertie Auld;
Hunners o’ wee men goin bald;
Sky Plus package been installed,
Hope the license van hisnae called;
Ma Scotland.
Bag o’ chips to romance her;
Fags and beer, oh ya dancer;
Every ned a Bengal Lancer;
World leader for lung cancer,
Doctors havnae got an answer;
Ma Scotland.
Deep-fried Mars bars on oor hearts;
Arbroath smokies, Border tarts;
Guid at snooker, guid at darts;
Wet, Wet Wet in the charts,
Whit a bunch of whining farts;
Ma Scotland.
Big Hen Broon still standing tall;
Wee wifies in the shopping maul;
Greggs the bakers, RS McCall;
Huns and Tims, bampots all,
Sectarianism’s always on the ball;
Ma Scotland.
Bowler-hatted marching Brits;
Carol Smillie’s threepenny bits;
Hairstyles worse than Robert Pritz;
Silicon Glen and empty pits,
Traditional industry left in bits;
Ma Scotland.
Switzerland, oh Switzerland
Land o’ cuckoo clocks
Cheese wi holes and loads o’ snow
And sledging wi John Noakes
Switzerland, oh Switzerland
Land o’ army knives
Mountains, lakes and chocolate
And such dreary little lives
Switzerland, oh Switzerland
Land o’ secret bankers
Ye’ve gaen up being neutral
And stuffed them English wankers
Switzerland, oh Switzerland
There is nae praise higher
Than for Scots tae toast the land
That gied us Ursi Meier
Referee, oh referee
Yer Scottish in disguise
Oh thank you Herr McMeier
Noo try a kilt for size
Have ye seen our new Parly?
It’s looking awfy braw
Three cheers for Miralles
An ah’ll gie his widow wan an aw.
Oh ah’d gie her wan, ah’d gie her wan
Ah’d gie her two or three
Oh ah want Senora Miralles
O’er ma bended knee.
Ole ole Senora Miralles
Man ah’d love to nip ’er
Help ma boab I think it’s time
Fur the return o’ Jack the Zipper
Visit the widow, visit the widow
Ah’m only being polite
Visit the widow, visit the widow
Aye that’ll be feckin right
Visit the widow, visit the widow
Ah’ll soon win her affection
Fur I hear she likes a man
Wi a magnificent erection
Ole ole ole ole ole
Ole ole ole ole ole
Jack and Benedetta up a tree
Sh-a-gg-ing
Alas poor John Thingy
He’s here nae mair
He’s clean disappeared
Like the last o’ his hair
Alas poor John Thingy
He’s been fund oot
They cried him a loser
An gied him the boot
Alas poor John Thingy
He was nae brain surgeon
He thocht Alex Salmond
Was yon Nicola Sturgeon
Alas poor John Thingy
I liked him just fine
I was fair scunnered when
They made him resign
Alas poor John Thingy
We’ll see him nae mair
They’ve called for Roseanna
A lesbian? That’s rerr
Wan nil to Ingerlund
Wi 90 minutes gone
Tyldesley’s daen ma nut in
But hang oan here’s Zidane
He’s lining up a free kick
Gaun yersel big man
Calamity for Calamity
Ya beauty it’s wan wan
Ah’m supposed tae be neutral
First Minister an aw that
But even David Blunkett
Can see Gerard’s a prat
A hospital pass tae Calamity
He’s ta’en the legs aff Henry
The ref’s pointed tae ra spot
Help ma boab a penalty
Get it up ye, get it up ye
Get it up ye Tony Blair
Your boys took a beating
Fae a man wi no much hair
Hen can you understaun me now
Sometimes ah feel a little mad
Don’t you ken that nae First Minister can aye be an angel
Even Donald Dewar now looks kinda bad
Well ah’m just a boy whose designers are good
Oh Lord, please let me build new Holyrood
Hen sometimes ah’m so brilliant
It’s so hard no tae be smug
Other times ah get caught wi ma zipper doon
And then ah don’t want onyone to see ma ugly mug
Well ah’m just a boy whose designers are good
Oh Lord, please let me build new Holyrood
Oh whit tae dae
It’s D-Day the day
An I’ve got two things oan my plate
Ah could take the chance
Tae get myself tae France
Or keep my fancy Royal dinner date
France is real sunny
But golf is real money
An I could get to be Prince Andy’s mate
Auld sojers are moaning
Aw shut your groaning
Am no rising to your D-Day dodging bait
Whit’s that you say?
Votes are gaun astray?
Maybe dinner wi Andy’s no that great
I know whit tae dae
It’s D-Day the day
Tell the heroes wee Jack is head of state.