Noo dinnae panic,
A huvnae died an gaun tae Heaven
As if ye wid says you
Weel nae luck it’s true
He’s back, yer intrepid Gumshoe.
Nae sign o Rich eh though;
Micht hae taen a turn fir the worst?
Or maybe no –
Anywie o Rich eh O
Mind how ye go, it’s cauld oot there
There snaw an ice upon the stair;
The yin that goes doon, as weel as up
The yin that spills the bubbly,
Afore ye can “lovely jubbly.”
Thir’s folk o every age,
Where life is no a stage –
Whae are cauld an hungry
An cannae meet thir bills
Nae matter how they try
But watch oot Richy O
Fir in his grave auld AddNib disnae lie,
Like Zoro strikes his mark in ink
An micht just guide us fae this stink
Nae promise mind o being in the pink
But maybe jist scratch thir armour
Enough tae mak a chink.
AddNib’s Weather Warning
If ye, like me, are gettin auld
Stay in, fir ootside’s awfie cauld
So is in says you
Yer right
But power profits say
It will be awright oan the night.
But then they dinnae half talk some shite!!!
Writer 