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Away Days

Away Days
June 21, 2017Buffy`s Buns
An early night – the long lie can wait

An away game day oot starts at half past eight

If only I could board the Supporters bus in ma jammies

I’d hae mair chance dressed as Sammy the Tammy

Doon front with the oldies or up back with the weans

I’ll play the safe card and go in a’tween

I’m handily placed for the passing o sweets

And out of the hearing range of teen angst tweets

Sharing a loo with a bus load of blokes

Isn’t much fun for us female folks

I’m getting wind of a passed roond bottle

As the bus driver takes a bend at full throttle

Fifty fifty draw tickets go in a flash

I nivver win but I gie it a bash

Excitement builds when a winner is hailed

But my lucky heather rabbit foot boat has sailed

We pour aff the bus at the visiting ground

A programme seller and tea stand is found

Bagged a guid seat on the sunny open terrace

If the heavens open it’ll look mair like Venice

Both teams run oot to a noisy reception

Our shouts of glee, love and affection

It’s aw square at half time so off furra pie

None left since kick off I let oot a sigh

With belly rumbling i return to ma seat

To watch subs miss the net by twa hunner feet

Second half starts and the home fans are growling

Their manager sent to the stand for howling

At the man in the middle with his shiny whistle

Aye we too could hit him with a jaggy thistle

Singing all game and my voice is no more

When our team take advantage and go on to score

Spontaneous dancing and the terrace is jumping

Happy to report on a wee team humping 😜

Back on the bus the fever is high

Scarves oot the windaes in cars passing by

The young-uns are singing < i> to a well kent Pars tune

Whilst the oldies and I snooze back into toon.

by Lorna Morton, June 2017

Last Game of the Season Frock

A myriad of colours adorn my bedroom floor

I’ve lost all sense of purpose and I cannae shut the door

The wardrobe has been emptied of all things long and short

Woolly jumpers, scarves and gloves no longer in my thoughts

There’s aff the shoulder, halter necks and buttons up the back

Stripes and flooors and polka dots, in pink and white and black

There’s buttons, ties plus hooks and eyes on a tartan bodice too

I cannae get a zip to work and I’m burstin’ for the loo

It’s become a wee tradition in my Rose Street oer the years

To make masel presentable on special days ye see

No thoughts of hair or makeup until I glance up at the clock

It’s half past one and I’ve just squeezed into my last-game-of-the-season frock!