Queen o’ Glum

Whatever ails your majesty?
What’s wi’ the glum physiog?
Lewis no tae yer likin’?

A wheen o’ centuries sittin’ doon
naebody tae play wi’
’ll dae that tae a body, right enough.

Maybe’s y’ve looked back fondly
on being a walrus,
tusking the wild sea wi’ yer ivory

when the game was on
aft gie cold, aye an’ hungry too
swimmin’, huntin’, fishin’ but alive

an’ alive bate the boredom
o’ bein’ a board queen
buried in a dune in a kist.

So is this what yer tryin’ tae tell us wi’
yer glum? Just look at me. This royalty’s
no all it’s cracked up tae be.