The Glesga' Gull

I'm feelin' rather peckish
I'll need to eat some grub
I think I'll go to Rolls-R-Us

for a meat-free, cheesy sub.

Aw naw, here comes a massive gull
Swooping down on me
Away ye go ya flying rat
I'm nowhere near the sea.

Your GPS is oot o' sync
The waater's six miles west
Now fly aff hame ya smelly burd
If you know what's best.

Right, that's it! Ya thieving git
Claws aff ma tasty breid
Ya manky brat, I've had enough
You've splatted oan ma heid.

Stop taunting me, ya big balloon
I suppose you think you're funny
You're no' as hard as you make oot
Your stools are affy runny.

I'll sort you oot, I'll get you back
Ya greedy ratty rocket
Prepare to die as you sail high
I've aspirin in ma pocket.

[a poem by Tourettes Timmy, age 9]
Submitted to the Blue Peter Poetry Challenge 2022*
[not shortlisted 😕]

* possibly untrue

By Timmy Tominey