A Wee Tale

[spamheid]

As I gaed oot on a simmer's day
Hoping to get my end away
A bonny lass I did espy
Inside the chip shop, with a pie
Red was her hair, and blue her ee
Yes, I felt grand this sight to see.
And so I stopped, ma kilt I lifted
Randy as hell, and twice as gifted
Seeing me through the window pane
"Enouch!" she cried, "Let me alane!"
Immediately I ran away
So silently, right doon the brae
And crept into ma wee bit hoose
With the quiet o' moose
Oh dear, I thought, have I been bad?
Now what a lovely time I'd had
Delightful was that bonny day
Elating in a wondrous way
Right then I went and washed ma kilt,
Filled up ma hip flask tae the hilt
Up the stair I climbed with haste
Letting ma kilt fall from ma waist,
Taking ma sporran in ma hand
Holding it high and looking grand
If there could be a better sight
Nothing could glow so very bright
Goolies aglow, I felt all right.
;D

[Cinders]

As you know, I am a pre-op trannie, so the Scottosh kilt has many attractions for me, a sort of halfway house between mens clothes and full female attire so I was able to empathise with this "bonnie wee" poem.

[Edna Sweetlove]

The kilt has always been a boon to flashers. Had George Formby been Scottish, God knows what he might have had in his hand.

[lardydar]

Actually properly love this. I shall exalt your fine ass Spam.

[spamheid]

Hoots! Ah'm fair exalted!

[montez]

Dear Rawhide,
You are a very naughty little boy....but I liked the poem!
Robin DaftYorkshirelad.
PS I've recently been reading about how our forebears came and whupped your ginger Scottish arses, then killed most of you (on the pretext that you're all scraggy, ginger-haired, unwashed and unkempt, halitosis-breathed, and can't talk proper, like wot we do, and you're rubbish at cricket) ; the others escaping to Canada. 'Ow the make love roughly did YOUR ancestors escape?