| Lyrics: | THE JEELIE PIECE SONG (SKYSCRAPER WEAN)
(Adam MacNaughton)
I'm a skyscraper wean, I
live on the nineteenth flair,
But I'm no gaun oot to play ony mair,
Since we moved to
Castlemilk, I'm wasting away,
'Cause I'm getting one less meal every day.
O ye
cannae fling pieces oot a twenty-story flat,
Seven-hundred hungry weans will testify to
that,
If it's butter, cheese or jeely, if the breid is plain or pan,
The odds against it
reaching earth and ninety-nine to one.
On the first day my maw flung out a piece o' Hovis
brown.
It came skyting oot the winda and went up insteid o' doon,
But every twenty-seven
hours it comes back into sight,
'Cause my piece went into orbit and became a
satellite.
One the second day my maw flung me a piece oot once again.
It went and
hit the pilot in a fast, low-flying plane.
He scraped it off his goggles, shouting through the
intercom:
'The Clydeside Reds have got me wi' a breid-and-jeely bomb!'
One the third
day my maw thought she would try another throw.
The Salvation Army band was staunin' doon
below.
'ONWARD, CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS' was the piece they should have played,
But the
oompah-man was playing a piece-on-marmalade.
We've wrote away tae Oxfam to try and get
some aid,
And a' the weans in Castlemilk have formed a ''Piece'' brigade;
We're going to
march to George's Square, demanding civil rights,
Like 'Nae Mair Hooses Over Piece-Flinging
Height!'
@Scots @food
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