Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Address to an iPod

Here are two quick poems I wrote tonight (when I should have been doing real work) and when panged with guilt looking at the iPod I hardly ever use any more. These are in my best pigeon Ulster-Scots, and inspired by Gary Blair, who was rightly complaining that Ulster-Scots has more to it than prootas and kye. (potatoes and cows)

Address to an iPod, version 1

Fair fa' yer fancy, shiny face
Chief gadget o the modern race
Aboon them a' yer thumpin' bass
Through white ear plugs
The status symbol o' the tasteful
An the smug

(that was with apologies to Robert Burns)

Address to an iPod, version 2

A langed tae buy an iPod
For aa ma favourite sangs
A wud pit aboot ten thoosant on't
Tae listen a' year lang

A seen ither fowk wi iPods
So A wanted yin masel
Wi wee white wires hanging fae mae lugs
Amang the sproots o' hair

Oh hoo A yearned for an iPod
A thocht A wus missin' oot
Wi' adverts on the television
iPod fowk aa jumpin' aboot

So A bocht masel an iPod
It wasnae very big
A cud pit it in ma pokit
Wi room for 80 gigs

Boys A loved ma new wee iPod
It haed a colour screen
It wus wee an black an shiny
An powerfu' on the een

Admirin' ma new iPod
A thocht A wus some boy
A footer't at it, och, for oors!
It wus my pride an joy

But, the coast o' ma new iPod
Weel it was far fae chape
Three hunner poun' A pairted wi'
Tae be redd o' CDs an' tapes

So for weeks A fill't ma iPod
Wi' aa' o my CDs
A burnt an burnt and fill't it
Tae the gills wi MP3s

But efter weeks an' weeks o' wantin'
It wusnae lang afore
A loast the notion o' ma iPod
Noo it sits here, getherin' stour

Noo A niver luk near ma iPod
A jist dinnae hae the time
Weel thon wus yin dear Aipple!
Three hunner poun'? A wusnae wise!

Burns he wrote o' the haggis
An Orr o' prootas an hills
But siccan a waste o' money!
O' gadgets A hae had ma fill

Yinst we jist haed grapes and prootas
Noo Ulster-Scots hae iPods forbye
But we irnae ony mair content
For we hinnae ony time.