A timely, cautionary tale for those planning camping expeditions in their car or in tents this coming year :-
CAMPERS
I’m nae a lad that scum-fishes
I’ve seen my share o’ clort
I dinna mind the daily bind
A’m nae the sit saft sort
My life hasna been connached
Wi’ petit fours and champers
No, the only sort pits me aff my stot
Is a wheen o’ clarty campers
Ah ferm three hunner acres
In a corner of the Howe
The land is kinda bosied
Whar the river sterts tae bow
There’s trees and little birdies
An’ wild flooers by an’ by
It’s a Bonny kinda corner
Fan the sun’s high in the sky
We’d had four months o’ lockdown
Fan they showed up in the park
Young kids, twa, then three
Oot on the spree, toonsers on a lark
Loons an’ quines the gither
An affa wheen o’ drinkers
A hellish crew fin they got fu’
A maukit mob o’ mingers
Ah didna like their music
Thon rap, it’s awfae violent
(Ah must confess, if ah hid tae guess
The “C” in rap is silent)
They screamt an’ roart i’ the darkness
The din wis hard tae tholl
An whitiver they were smokin’
It wisna bogey roll
They’d brocht thon tin tray barbecues
An’ even lit a fire
They’d nae brocht ony firewid
But they’d been tae chainsaw hire
Ma richt wee Bonny corner
Shin wis lookin’ like a coup
For what e’r they used and feenished wi’
Jist landed at thur doup !
Bit that wisnae the worst o’t
They were shitin’ in the lang grass
An orra sorta caper
An’ ivry durty dollop crown’d
Wi’ bright pink lavvy paper
It mine’d me o’ those corals
That ye see in southern oceans
Ah wisna walk-in’ through my park
Ah wis goin’ through their motions
Ah headed doon tae tell them aff
But! afore I could even speak
They chased me aff ma ain grun
Wi a heap o’ bloody cheek
They tellt me that, in Scotland,
They had freedom for tae roam
And, here I’m paraphrasing,
Fan they telt me “to go home”
The cheif-maist een amongst them,
An orra lookin chiel,
Tried tae tell me a’ the richts o’t
As if I were daft, or feel
He laughed at me, an’ got mair beer
Frae oot o’ een ‘ thur hampers
While I just stood there scunnert
At the wayse o’ clarty campers
That nicht, ah laid there ragin’
Ah niver slep’ a wink
Ah could hear them, tae the wee Sma’ oors
Teemin’ a’ that drink
But, by the time the sun was up,
I’d reckoned ivery factor
An’ girded on ma bilersuit
An’ went an’ got my tractor
It was a special kind of wake up call
For I wis in nae hurry
As I drove past slow, in second gear,
Wi’ a tankerload o’ slurry!
The flow rate wis hived tae maximum
Ah’d set it, in the barn
An’ ah carefully sprayed their campsite
Wi eight tons o’ bright green Sharn
I doot it wis the breakfast
For which they had been hopin’
An’ safe tae bet, they micht regret
Leavin car windaes open
One puir loon wis sleepin’ on the grass
He must hae been richt fu’
But now he woke up cowkin’
Wi caffies sharn inside his moo
Am nae sayin’ it wis the richt thing tae dae
In faith, it wis a glorious sight
As the three wee tents
Were battered flat
Wi’ a tidal wave o’ sh*te
That morning, they learnt a lesson
A teuchter won’t be scorned
For the welcome that awaits them here
Clarty Campers ! - you’ve been warned !!
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)
