elvis mcgonagall
> That Government Healthcare Policy In Full
> Carry On Up The Brexit
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> Narcissus In Bicycle Clips
> Cold Comfort
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> Stop Yer Swithering Jock!
> Purbeck – The Enduring Isle
> Making Plans With Nigel
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> 53 Quid A Week
> A Bed At The Ritz
> Breaking News In Dorset Haiku
> If
> I Wanna Do The Continental
> The Queen's Speech
> An Analysis....
> You Can Call Me Dave
> Uisge Gu Leoir
> Let Them Eat Flake
> The Inexorable March of Western Cultural Hegemony
> Justice

The Long, Long, Long Goodbye

> This Land’s Not Your Land
> Turkey Shoot

A Game Of Two Halves

> Portrait Of The Hunger Artist
> Caveat Compotor
> Beale Haiku
> Bible Bashing

Pride & Prejudice
by Jane Austen-Powers (listen)


Christmas in the Country no. 1 (listen)

> I'm A Believer (listen)
> You Can Call Me Dave (listen)
> Jamie Oliver Twist (listen)

one man & his doggerel

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This was written in November 2004 after The Black Watch were posted to the south-west of Baghdad to enable American troops to flatten Fallujah. No jokes. Dedicated to Reg Keys.


Turkey Shoot < back


They deny it's a political decision
They insist it's a military request
They just need a few Scottish soldiers
To die at George Bush's behest
Doomed youth from Dundee and Dunfermline
Blairgowrie, Kirkcaldy and Perth
They've got you over a barrel of oil
In the Mesopotamian earth
You're a thin tartan line, off-kilter, laid bare
With a fig leaf of Downing Street lies
So that US Marines can break hearts and lose minds
In the name of MacFreedom 'n fries
Thus the red hackle rises west of Baghdad
The Black Watch have been here before
And the river Euphrates is foaming with blood
Now Babylon's burning once more
Star spangled rockets fracture the night
Minarets shatter and fall
The city of mosques is a boneyard
Only ghosts heed the muezzin's call
"Allah akbar! Allah akbar! Allah akbar!"
The cry from a death rattletrap
Hell-bent on a joyride to God with a bomb
Blasting metal and flesh into scrap
Charred carcass heaps high in the desert
Laid to waste for American greed
As democracy sinks in the quicksands of fear
And you smell the foul stench of this deed
But you're caught between the devil
And a sea of pitch-black gold
A sacrifice to the petrol pump price
Your honour is tarnished and sold
Still they say they'll disband your battalion
You're The Queen's Own Disposable Jocks
Then they promise you'll be home for Christmas
And you will - gift-wrapped in a six-foot pine-box

copyright elvis mcgonagall, 2004



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