A BURNS-inspired ode to Donald Trump has won a budding Scots poet first prize in a competition held Down Under.
Lorna Wallace wrote “A Scot’s Lament fur her American Fellows (Oan their election of a tangerine gabsh**e walloper)” last year following Trump’s victory.
The 24-year-old from Kilmarnock, East Ayrshire, slammed the controversial billionaire an “eedjit wi a sh**e hairstyle” in the style of Scots poet, Robert Burns.
Other lines amusingly refer to the president elect, whose inauguration will be held this Friday, as a having a “tangoed coupon glowing like a skelped backside”.
After entering the competition in December, the talented Scot found out yesterday (MON) she had won first prize in the New Zealand Robert Burns Poetry Competition for 2016/2017.
And the panel even said they’re sure Robert Burns himself would have been a fan of the writing himself if he were still alive.
In one stanza, she hilariously writes: “Yet lo, ye votit (michty me!)/Ti hawn’ this walloper the key/Ti pow’r supreme, ti stert his hateful/Cruel regime. A cling ti hope that this is aw/Jist wan bad dream.”
Another reads: “Awch USA, we feel yir woes/An’ pour oor wee herts oot ti those/Who ken this oarange gabsh**e isnae/Who they chose/But jist sit tight; Trump’s cluelessness/Will time expose.”
As the poem goes on, Lorna adds: “Poutin’, glaikit through this farce/His mooth wis pursed up like an arse/His Tangoed coupon glowin’ like/A skelped backside/Despite all his bravado/Trump looked keen ti hide.”
Speaking today (TUE) about her shock at win, she said: “It took about a day and a half and I just wrote most of it on my phone while I was behind the counter in my mum’s fabric shop.
“I started it on the 9th, finished it on the 10th and posted it on the 11th.
“I never expected to win so wasn’t even going to bother entering and I’m now in complete shock.
“Thanks so much to everybody who liked, shared or otherwise made me believe that this was worth entering.”
Asked if she was a fan of Trump, and referring to the Scottish word for a turnip she said: “Definitely not.
“Whit a tumshie. That’s possibly how Burns would describe him I think: a complete tumshie.”
In a congratulatory email, the judging panel wrote: “Our judge, Victor Rodger, and I are delighted with the clearly Burns-inspired humour of your poem – highly topical and if the Bard were here now I’m sure he too would be congratulating you on your political saltire.”
Lorna has been invited to the Dunedin Burns Supper in New Zealand next Wednesday to collect her William Brown and Charles Turner media and her certificate.
Due to the distance and short notice, the prize will be posted over to Scotland instead.
However the panel have urged Lorna to record the entire poem so they can stream it during the prize giving.
The Robert Burns Poetry Competition is a collaboration between the Dunedin Public Libraries and The Dunedin Burns Club.
Dunedin, in the South Island of New Zealand has a familial link to Robert Burns, in the form of his nephew, Dr Thomas Burns – who was one of the City’s founding fathers during Scottish settlement.
A statue of Robert Burns was unveiled in 1887, and stands in the Octagon at the heart of the City Centre.
Alongside a number of Scottish clubs and societies in the city, the Dunedin Burns Club – formed in 1891- work to keeps the memory of Scottish heritage alive.
The full poem reads:
“America, aw whit ye dain?!
How could ye choose a clueless wain
Ti lead yir country? Who wid trust
A man sae vile?!
A racist, sexist eedjit
Wi a shite hairstyle?
Yet lo, ye votit (michty me!)
Ti hawn’ this walloper the key
Ti pow’r supreme, ti stert his hateful,
Cruel regime.
A cling ti hope that this is aw
Jist wan bad dream.
But naw, the nightmare has come true,
A curse upon rid, white an’ blue,
An’ those who cast oot Bernie
Must feel sitch regret
Fur thinkin’ Mrs. Clinton
Was a safer bet.
So noo we wait ti see unfold
Division an’ intolerance, cold;
A pois’nous bigotry untold
Since Hitler’s rule
As the free world’s hopes an’ dreams
Lie with this fool.
Alas, complainin’ wullnae change
The fact this diddy has free range
Ti ride roughshod ow’r human beings
That fall outside
The cretinous ideals borne of
His ugly pride.
Awch USA, we feel yir woes
An’ pour oor wee herts oot ti those
Who ken this oarange gabshite isnae
Who they chose,
But jist sit tight; Trump’s cluelessness
Will time expose.
Fur sittin’ there beside Obama
Efter the election drama,
Trump looked like reality
Had finally hit:
Aboot the role of president
He knew Jack shit.
Poutin’, glaikit through this farce,
His mooth wis pursed up like an arse,
His Tangoed coupon glowin’ like
A skelped backside.
Despite all his bravado
Trump looked keen ti hide.
Let’s therefur no despair an’ greet,
Or see this outcome as defeat.
Let’s wait an’ watch this bampot
Flap his hawns an’ squirm
When presidential pressures
Crush him like a worm.
Hawd oan ti values you hold dear,
Don’t let this numpty bring yi fear,
His chants of hatred don’t speak fur
The human race.
Love will endure despite this
Oarange-faced disgrace.
So USA, in ma conclusion,
Know we Scots feel your confusion:
We are also chained ti those
Not of oor choosin’.
Stand firm fur unity will break
Through Trump’s delusion.
