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Poems for devolution (Free verse) by richa

I We turn the clocks forward for more light, for the scottish farmers not doubt. In the highlands, red jowls chewing on gristle. Their strange climate they can keep. II A strange climate you have; rain on a handful of heads in spartan highlands, we all get the forecast. In those couple of minutes we could have had Rhyl's.

richa 3-Nov-04/7:02 AM
The poem is meant to be a portrait of a devolutionist rather than 'I' with my pet theory on why we should get rid of scotland.
As for the haggis bit. I don't really want to get rid of it (the poem is meant to descend into farce) but I may have to. I want there to be an underlying sense of petty hostility from the narrator.




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