Fifty Shades of Tartan.

This is for my friend Peter, who made a massive effort to dress perfectly for Burns Night, and his wonderful partner fed us stunning food including marmalade pudding.

His sporran twitched as he stood there,

The frame of light upon his hair

So ginger, Tam o‘ Shanter cocked

To one side – oh, my, how he rocked.

A hint of Jimmy Saville there

(I think it mostly was the hair)

Or John Mcrirrick (from the races,

I’m a celeb, and other places)

I felt a thrill, a pang of guilt

As my eyes wandered t’wards his kilt

A glimpse of knee – a knobbly one

Ye Gods, McPeter – I’m undone!

My inner haggis is unleashed

I cannot tame my inner beast

Under his kilt the hidden quarters

Made for making sons and daughters

As for Lady Marmalade

(With all those puddings that she’s made)

She kept her eyes on me all night

For fear that in a flash I might

Lose all control, to his surprise

Run fingers up his inner thighs

But all was well, my self control

Worked for me, but it took its toll

Exhausted, rung out, spent and racked

Dreaming of what was not unpacked

From underneath his Scottish Skirt

Come on McPeter – dish the dirt……

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