Labour poses as red, Tory vileness is blue: a Valentine’s poem for the Scotland Bill

Labour poses as red, Tory vileness is blue, twin ends on a spanner that want to screw you. When you make someone a promise it’s a moral law that if you renege and treat them like a heid the baw then they’re no longer beholden to the contract you made when you begged and pleaded and prayed that they stayed. Vote No, they said it was realism, and we’d get the nearest thing possible to federalism.

They told us so in a solemn vow, and Jackie Bird gushed that if Scotland kowtowed then we’d enjoy home rule and devo max, three thousand jobs in excise and tax. There would be a secure future for steel and offshore an oil bonanza and gas galore. See Westminster’s zeal to give Scotland all the powers it could ever need for the best of both worlds in which we’d succeed at being a small country punching above its weight thanks to the Parliament that makes Britain great. Our place would be safe in the EU’s embrace, and pensions secure, or so Gordie reassured.

Scotland’s old and afraid complied and obeyed. And all it would take was a little No vote. And now the boot’s on our throat and Holyrood chokes on a Scotland Bill that boaks on the promises sworn. Now watch the Union die unmourned, killed by those who claimed that they loved it, their Valentine’s massacre will bury and shove it into the pages of history books, unlamented, unwanted, its death cooked up by crooks who lied and cheated. They thought we were fools who had been defeated. They thought that they’d silenced the auld sang, but they’re wrang. We’re angry, we’re organised, we’re on the advance while the forces of Union hang like farts in a trance wearing ironic t-shirts of Scottish Resistance. The real Scottish resistance is winning on the streets, while Unionist apologists play games with tweets.

The Scotland Bill is a deceptive piece of crap, not giving Scotland powers but a Westminster trap to make Scots pay twice for Tory cuts slashing the budget making the poor hurt. Conservative austerity is the only guarantee we’ll get from a Union that works for the rich for tax breaks for Google and for royalist kitsch. Three billion quid will be taken from our pockets to pay for London transport and nuclear rockets that blight the Clyde.

The so called powers can’t ever be used. The Scotland Bill’s purpose is to create SNP accused headlines in papers that no one will read, to hamstring Holyrood and let it bleed. And the steel jobs are gone and the tax offices closed, you won’t get a pension until your corpse decomposed. The future stretches out in the bleak years ahead while benefits sanctions add to the toll of the dead. Hand outstretched, beg for a crumb, powerless and supine under the thumb of governments we didn’t vote for, under Tories we despise. Subject to cruel sadistic games and Cameron’s lies. There’s no living in a Union that gives Scotland no respect from Westminster parties that insult intellects.

Respect the referendum cry Westminster’s proteges, but respecting the referendum cuts both ways. It doesn’t mean that Yes voters must forever haud their wheesht. It doesn’t mean that the Unionists have suddenly been released from the promises they made in that final frantic week when they tried to stave off indy with lies and doublespeak. There was a no vote because commitments had been made, and it’s time that the Unionists fulfilled the debts they’ve left unpaid.

Despite its smug condescension Westminster can’t get it all its own way, the Scotland Bill must go to Holyrood so Scotland gets a say. Scotland said no that September, we can say no again, and bring the Scotland Bill shuddering to an ignominous end. Unfit for purpose, unfit for use, an insult to Scotland, as hopeless as Foulkes. We wanted devo max, they gave us a kick in the baws, we can go on the attack and we can say naw. Youse can stick yer Scotland Bill right up yer airse is what to tell the Commons Committee for Scotland’s Affairs.

We’ve got Holyrood elections coming in May when the voters of Scotland can have a say on the lies and deceit that Westminster bleats. Devo max means Scotland controls all its tax, not just the ones that the Westmaniacs think they can use as a weapon of suppression against Scotland’s procession into national normalcy. Home rule means we’re the masters of our destiny, it doesn’t mean fewer powers than a Danish municipality. If home rule doesn’t mean that Scotland gets to define itself it’s merely Westminster ridicule.

In May we can vote for parties that will tell Westminster enough is enough, it’s Scotland’s turn to act tough, to make Labour and the Tories respect the referendum. We’ve got the momentum, their deceptions are unwelcome. They have to deliver what they said was on the table, not to leave us scrabbling for crumbs and a fable of home rule that’s a sop for fools. Deliver your vow, now. Deliver the vow you wanted us to understand not the one that suits you now. We’ll have home rule that’s a fact or every Scotland Act will be sent back. Give what you vowed or there will be a mandate for a fresh indyref and this time Scotland will be uncowed by abuse and threats and scares of debts.

Scotland gave the Unionist parties a second chance that September, but they treated us like fools. We tried to make them remember in May last year not to be cavalier with Scotland’s expectations, but all we got were more machinations. In May we can finish off the job, this is the Union’s last chance to make a stance and dance a Scottish jig. We won’t tolerate any more lies. This time Scotland’s got its eye on the prize, proper powers will be ours or we’ll catch Westminster crooks on an indy hook.

Labour poses as red, Tory vileness is blue, the Scotland Bill is dead and Scotland’s through with you.

Sealed with an unloving Glesca kiss.

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