POEM TITLE Blackness
POEM Tell me, did you ever gie a thought
to Blackness and it’s Lobster Pot?
I found myself, the other day,
walking ‘long the silvery bay.
There is a castle like a boat,
though locals say it never floats,
but touristes seem to like it fine
and clamber on its rocky spine.
What’s more, they have a yacht club there
for owners wi a bit to spare.
The boats look splendid, though, you’ld say,
bobbing gently in the bay,
and walks, there are, both east and west,
to Queensferry and auld Bo’ness.
I’ve half a mind to stay for good,
the sea - the views - the pub’s good food.
But there’s aye a catch to spoil the lark -
try and find a place to park!
To stay there, though, I’m quite intent if I can find a place to rent,
then you’ll always ken just where I’ll be.
The Lobster Pot will do for me.
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