Sunday 3 March 2013

Davie's birthday poem



To a Davie

On this day it’s worth a mention
Davie McMeekin’s got his pension
Sixty-five, a feat to hail
But let’s get tae the gory tale

Oor Dainty Davie’s hard o’ lug
That’s why he’s got a listening dug
Black and white – the licence is cheaper
Cares not a jot about her keeper
And on a Wednesday her lips she’ll lick
Cos there’s many an ooter to throw a stick
Davie’s got only wan obsession
To join us on a three pint session
A joy for which he’s longed to strive
If only Holly could learn to drive

Great faither o’ the ooters race
He shames us a’ wi’ such great pace
Well maybe except for Rex and Paul
He really does shame us all
He leads us on those fabulous walks
Showin’ aff his superb socks
In his shorts no matter the season
Surely there has to be a reason
How come the nettles don’t him sting
It has to be a Darvel thing
But if there happens to be a mist
He might as well be Brahms and Liszt
To follow him would be a folly
That’s why we ooters follow Holly
  
And on a Tuesday he tackles the swimmin’
His pink trunks truly pleases the women
His speedos cut quite a dash
But Kay, it’s time you mended the gash
For as he does his measured mile
He’s lucky he disnae get the jile
And please be gentler wi’ the washin’
Cos’ the ‘S ‘ in Speedo’s taken a bashin’
Nae wonder when he enters the watter
The weans a’ flee wi’such a clatter
(In truth, his trunks arenae pink at a’
They’re black, but still ootside the law)

But talkin’ o’ pink, there’s an issue we cannot skirt
That is the hue of his favourite shirt
In his sexuality he says he’s happy
For he’s played ball wi’ many a chappie
And who can forget the night in France
When he led us a’ a merry dance
Drinkin’ the wine and playin’ the mouthie
Before collapsin’ on the pouffe
(It was actually the couch, but it didnae rhyme
I’ll think o’ somethin’ else for the next time)
To rouse him Robert unleashed his claws
And caressed poor Davie on the ba’s
However, by next morning, it has to be said
He’d kicked oor Robert oot the bed 


Davie woke up wi’ such a start
That he let oot a helluva fart
The noise was like a sonic boom
And blew pair Robert clean oot the room
He landed on the road outside
Nursing his butt as well as his pride
To make matters worse, as well as his sores,
The boys wouldnae let him back indoors
But he had an idea, at least he thought
Cos in his pocket was the TV remote
If you don’t let me in there’ll be nae mair telly
So come doon tae the door and gie it some welly
The door did open and Robert was beilin’
Had to srape wee Davie aff the ceilin’
He shouted and bawled, his face was red
It’s ma hoose, so get tae yer bed
The master o’ his country pile
King o’ Mosset for another while

 He is entrusted wi’ oor kitty
And doesnae gie us any pity
Going down frae Muirkirk tae Sanquhar
He took the purse and became oor banker
On the hills his repute is feared
A collie dug and a snow white beard
In the wet he wears a poncho
He wants to be the true head honcho
And tho’ it’s Bob who’s the decision maker
It’s Davie’s that the master baker
A thoughtful, learned, cunning linguist
I think you’ll understand the twist

The apostrophe, now there’s a mission
A rage that rivals nuclear fission
Davie wants tae make it clear
This is a cause to which he’s dear
It’s no a matter o’ rocket science
But one o’ simple grammatic compliance
It says a lot about education,
Or the lack of it, in this great nation

He’s a scholar of that man Rabbie Burns
And is famous for his many turns
At Holy Wullie he is a star
To hear him speak they travel far
Wi’ the lights oot and the candle lit
He brings to life the bard’s wry wit
But, if a Supper you need him to chair
You’ll need a glass his weight to bear
His drams do need constant tending
And his jokes are truly never ending
Only hauf a joke was in his meter
Too much time spent wi’ his pal Peter
When will we hear the rest o’ the story?
O’ the three in the train in a’ their glory
The drams, they didnae make him clever
Ae fond kiss, and then we slever?
And who can forget the famous day
When a carryoot should have been a takeaway
The ending wasnae tae the letter
But it made the laughter even better

When Johnny goes into computer speak
Davie proves he is no geek
Can barely find the computer switch
Or sort the simplest software glitch
Instead he relies on his helpful wife
Certainly not his trouble and strife
Kay runs the blog with expertise
And doesn’t charge us any fees
Or does she?
For some weeks Davie does us forsake
And takes his wife on a mid-week break
Arran, Pitlochry but nane sae swankie
As up the pass o’ Killiecrankie
And mind the day he went tae Boston
Forgot the turn-aff frae doontoon Ga’ston

And did chef Davie get in a fankle
When Kay fell doon and hurt her ankle?
(She tell’t us a that she hadnae been drinkin’
But that’s not what we a’ were thinkin’)
She couldnae walk and couldnae cook
So Davie said ‘Lie doon and look’
I’ll treat ye tae ma signature dish
And rest assured it’ll no be fish
Nae haddock, herrin’ and without a doubt
Nae salmon or fresh sea trout
And if you tempted him wi’ a scallop
Be prepared for a hefty wallop
Nothing frae the sea, wi’ a’ them bones
Better wi’ black puddin’ and tattie scones
But on this night he had somethin’ tae prove
And got intae the culinary groove
He showed  at the stove he is no assho’
Thanks to fajitas from Old El Paso
Even the dug got in a tizz
At the thought that Davie knew where the cooker wiz
She thought this’ll be ma lucky night
I’m gonnae get a tasty bite
But nae such luck, the usual fare
Then she remembered her paw was sair
So she limped about and gave him the look
And oh what pity on her he took
He was so sure the act was no fake
He threw oor Holly a fillet steak
The next night she tried the self-same farce
The result, a boot up the canine arse

But Davie knows we’re only jokin’
At him it’s fun that we’re a’ pokin’
Ye’ can only dae that to yer mates
In this respect he’s wan o’ the greats
We wish him health for many a year
Ever to enjoy the odd wee beer
A single malt we know he treasures
As long as it’s in very big measures
And a generous glass of fine red wine
Hits a spot that’s so divine

And finally, wi’ wan voice we dae speak
That lum o’ yours, may lang she reek



  

1 comment:

Kay McMeekin said...

Another masterpiece, Allan!

David really appreciated it!

Thanks to all the Ooters for giving him a birthday to remember.