Tubthumper
25-May-07, 14:00
The story so far…
After defeating Auld Nick’s Demonic Choir at the hijacked National Mod, our heroes were awarded the highest accolades. But as they set off home, the swarms of Hades regrouped and are now in hot pursuit. Their only hope of survival is to make it to the KessockBridge, over which their enemies cannot cross…
Up past Perth old Maggie speeded
Clutch in shreds, her wails unheeded
Onto A9, uphill toil
Smoke poured out from burning oil
Frowning hard with nerves of steel
Hugh crouched low across the wheel
The choir all braced for devil spree
But stopped at Aviemore for a pee
“On! On, proud Maggie, on!
We must outrun the devil’s spawn”
Cried Myrtle as the old bus groaned
The axles hummed, the gearbox moaned
At the rear Pat Kieran was all in a tizzy
“Hurry up, Hurry up, here come the bizzies!”
From window was seen a horrible sight
A positive plague of Hades in flight
With a look of revenge in their terrible eyes
Determined to capture the Melvich choir’s prize
The only thing saving the crew from the fate
Of becoming the Melvich Gaelic Choir (Late)
Was if Maggie could make the best speed she was worth
And cross the still waters of old Moray Firth
The high Kessock Brig was the border past which
No demon could pass, neither warlock nor witch
But could Maggie make it up Drumochter pass?
The poor old broken-down omnibus lass
Hugh gave it her all, with his foot to the floor
Graham Cameron shouting abuse out the door
The baddies got closer, Alison McLean
Threw a bun at the closest and blew out his brain
To the peak of Drumochter with spirits around
High-flying zombies and Baskerville hounds
Four horsemen rode past with a song on their lips
On their way to the Kessock bridge apocalypse…
But Maggie was game, with the demons looming larger
Big Hughie took his final chance and fired the supercharger
A blast of smoke, a gout of fire, the pride of Rapson’s fleet
Took off so fast that Hughie ended up behind his seat
With Frankie hanging to the wheel and Hughie bleeding bad
The big blue bus shot up the hill, the warlocks screaming mad
And over Slochd she gave the final sign that she was game
And broke the hundred mile an hour mark, trailing streams of flame
She shot past Raigmore turnoff losing tyre upon the way
But there was no chance of stopping Maggie, no sir, nope, no way!
With devils flying in pursuit with horrid roar and shout
She hit the final furlong at the Longman roundabout
And shot onto approach to Brig, in a broadside four-wheel skid
One demon made a grab and got a hold of the rear boot-lid
And as bold Maggie roared up to the Kessock Brig at last
The boot broke off and the demon disappeared into the blast
Well Maggie made the crossing and old Satan roared in anger
But once across the Kessock Brig, the choir was no’ in danger
For Brownies, Bowglies, Zombies, Frankensteins for all they’re worth
Will surely never triumph ‘gainst the forces of the North
For all the way they’ve tampered wi the South and left it messed
They canna make the crossing into country that is blessed
No demon and no devil, no banshee or no vampire
Will ever get the better of The Melvich Gaelic Choir!
This was written for the Melvich Gaelic Choir’s 2007 Burns Supper.
Special Thanks to all those mentioned for inspiration, haggis & whisky.
Note: This work implies nothing about the personalities, habits or feet of those named; it was just for a laugh…
After defeating Auld Nick’s Demonic Choir at the hijacked National Mod, our heroes were awarded the highest accolades. But as they set off home, the swarms of Hades regrouped and are now in hot pursuit. Their only hope of survival is to make it to the KessockBridge, over which their enemies cannot cross…
Up past Perth old Maggie speeded
Clutch in shreds, her wails unheeded
Onto A9, uphill toil
Smoke poured out from burning oil
Frowning hard with nerves of steel
Hugh crouched low across the wheel
The choir all braced for devil spree
But stopped at Aviemore for a pee
“On! On, proud Maggie, on!
We must outrun the devil’s spawn”
Cried Myrtle as the old bus groaned
The axles hummed, the gearbox moaned
At the rear Pat Kieran was all in a tizzy
“Hurry up, Hurry up, here come the bizzies!”
From window was seen a horrible sight
A positive plague of Hades in flight
With a look of revenge in their terrible eyes
Determined to capture the Melvich choir’s prize
The only thing saving the crew from the fate
Of becoming the Melvich Gaelic Choir (Late)
Was if Maggie could make the best speed she was worth
And cross the still waters of old Moray Firth
The high Kessock Brig was the border past which
No demon could pass, neither warlock nor witch
But could Maggie make it up Drumochter pass?
The poor old broken-down omnibus lass
Hugh gave it her all, with his foot to the floor
Graham Cameron shouting abuse out the door
The baddies got closer, Alison McLean
Threw a bun at the closest and blew out his brain
To the peak of Drumochter with spirits around
High-flying zombies and Baskerville hounds
Four horsemen rode past with a song on their lips
On their way to the Kessock bridge apocalypse…
But Maggie was game, with the demons looming larger
Big Hughie took his final chance and fired the supercharger
A blast of smoke, a gout of fire, the pride of Rapson’s fleet
Took off so fast that Hughie ended up behind his seat
With Frankie hanging to the wheel and Hughie bleeding bad
The big blue bus shot up the hill, the warlocks screaming mad
And over Slochd she gave the final sign that she was game
And broke the hundred mile an hour mark, trailing streams of flame
She shot past Raigmore turnoff losing tyre upon the way
But there was no chance of stopping Maggie, no sir, nope, no way!
With devils flying in pursuit with horrid roar and shout
She hit the final furlong at the Longman roundabout
And shot onto approach to Brig, in a broadside four-wheel skid
One demon made a grab and got a hold of the rear boot-lid
And as bold Maggie roared up to the Kessock Brig at last
The boot broke off and the demon disappeared into the blast
Well Maggie made the crossing and old Satan roared in anger
But once across the Kessock Brig, the choir was no’ in danger
For Brownies, Bowglies, Zombies, Frankensteins for all they’re worth
Will surely never triumph ‘gainst the forces of the North
For all the way they’ve tampered wi the South and left it messed
They canna make the crossing into country that is blessed
No demon and no devil, no banshee or no vampire
Will ever get the better of The Melvich Gaelic Choir!
This was written for the Melvich Gaelic Choir’s 2007 Burns Supper.
Special Thanks to all those mentioned for inspiration, haggis & whisky.
Note: This work implies nothing about the personalities, habits or feet of those named; it was just for a laugh…