Where’s yon orb A spoke aboot?
Covered oer wie tufts o fluff
A had pit oot my shorts and polo
Ach, A’ve aboot had enough
It’s nae surprise
Ma spirits rise
The minute A see its face,
But it never takes oer long
Fir muckle clouds tae take its place
Heatwaves forecast, then nowt,
Eclipes Ellispsis is about.







