Vintage Words


The lad in his kilt climbed the mountain

as if the rain was at bloody fault.

He cleanse his pallet with a fountain

of ale and spoke clearly about what

he thought.


Wee lassies and laddies listen, he howled.

The times change and so do the seasons.

There is fish in the sea but the water's so

fouled I've come to tell ye the reasons.


So, ye likes a bit o automobile and a bit o

jet plane is your fancy. Come highland folk

sing joyfully to the god o oil and the goddess

acid rain as the earth born deny global



I've come to tell ye to take me advie. Fault

be found in burned  fossil fuel. Get a windmill

like your grandfer, carbon free. Earth'll heal

best when gristed grindsones churn.







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