Reflections on a Turf War

A poem by Steve Webb from the point of view of his 'Auld Jock MacKeachran' character about unpopular developments in Aberdeen and Shire.

Eence, oor prood forefaithers
Raised their kilts on the battle field
Defendin’ oor land fae thievin’ hands
Wi’ a big sword an’ a shield
A tradition upheld yet tae this day
In the Shire and Aiberdeen
Yet the Cooncil’s swapped the Claymore
For a tub o’ Vaseline.

Eence bocht and sold for English gold
Now any coin will do
To grease the wheels and seal the deals
O’ democracy done tae you
Trumpton gets his playpen
Woody gets his square
Stewartie Milne’s wee boxes
Spring up here an there

And on the ancestral turf o wir fitba team
While they’re rippin’ the hairt fae the toon
Wi’ the P&J pavin’ the way
Whistlin’ the Chamber’s tune.
Ah’m nae jist a nimby naysayer
Ah’m a forward thinkin’ chap
Noo ‘progressive’ is cool
Ah’m nae an auld fool
Hingin’ on tae Auld Lang Syne’s crap

We’ve 6,000 folk on a hoosin’ list
An a tycoon wi’ money tae spare
A wee local loon in shire and toon
Chucking hooses up iv’rywhere
Noo, foo’s this for a wee proposal?
The Sir Ian Wood Cooncil Estate
The main road, Stewartie Milne Drive
A statue o’ each on the entrance gate.
We could big it oot by Bieldside!
Aye right! Tack it on tae Brig o Don
Hameless folk get a hoosie
An’ the noteables’ names live on.

An’ Ah had a wee vision o’ Trumpton, an aa
It was misty kine, vague and grey
Jist the same to be seen
On the warld’s T.V. screen
On Trumpton Tournament day
Wis that hazy blur on the telly
Tiger Woods gaan twa under par?
That soond? A corbie cawwin?
Or locals gaan “Haar! Haar! Haar!”?

Formartine’s rollin’ sandy dunes
Eence a wild and soothin’ sight
Noo a potty putter’s private park
Next tae land filled wi’ oily shite
Ah love to roam auld Sco tia
Sae it irks, ye unner stan’?
Tae hear the Yankee dollar bark
“You! Get off my land.”

Money disna spik, it swears
It’s getting mair an mair obscene
Through a voice in the North it craws daily
“Sod Democracy Aberdeenshire!”
“Bugger you, folk of Aberdeen!”

Ah see yet anither vision,
Reflectin in shiny sheen
Standin on the fine clipped girse
O’ a funcy puttin’ green
It’s nae poppin’ corks or cigar smoke
Or splittin’ grins that catch ma een
But summin’ gaan on ablow the turf
Summons me tae be seen…

Aneth undignified local worthies
Bendin’ ower backwards to kiss Trump’s arse
Those ancient braves dirl in their graves
At this done deal democracy farce.

… Jock MacKeachran, 6th June 2010


Via Aberdeen Voice

Reflections on a Turf War