Celtic Head Cult (Nae Mair Stovies)

 

 

 

Behold the heidless horseman,

through the gloomy glen he rideys,

stopping off at roadside snack shacks

for lentil soup and bridies.

 

He belongs to that lawless band:

The Order of the Unholy Roller,

those bawheid-robbing brigands

sponsored by Currie's Red Kola.

 

Though their sporrans may look foreign,

they're Scottish through and through:

if you slice them open

they bleed pure Irn-Bru.

 

They hang around by Celtic Park,

scaring kids shiftless in the dead of dark.

 

Hush now, Fannybaws! Cease and desist!

Will you kindly haud yer wheesht?

With a skirl of pipes, these kilted shites

are coming for your heads.

You irredeemable neds!

 

Through the open window

floats a soothing baritone.

Hell alone knows

where their voices are coming from:

 

Come on baby don't you be late
I want your head I want it tonight
Cut your head off at half past eight
And have it on my wall about half past ten*

B.R. 22/02/2018


*Lyrics from No More Hot Dogs by the late great Hasil Adkins