116.Queen of the Hibees. (07/03/2016).

Something that came to life whilst on a writing course at the start of the year, like a lot of things it just kind of evolved into what it is.  It was enjoyable nonsense to write, which is how it should be fun.


116.Queen of the Hibees. (07/03/2016).

She’s always been a hit with all the boys,

Especially on a Saturday afternoon.

Especially when their playing,

Because she puts her hair up in a beehive,

That she lets them hide their tins of beer in,

And then gets in through the turnstiles free,

On a Saturday at Easter Road,

From four foot ten to six foot two,

It’s quite the transformation,

With a 12 inch tall makeshift offy,

Perched upon her head,

She’s quite the Queen of all that’s seen,

On the terracing of a sporting afternoon,


Though by the time the evening comes,

She’s feeling like she’s got vertigo,

Looking down for such a time,

From such a height, from four inches high,

She’d no idea how lanky bastards did it all the bloody time,

From the “Four in Hand” to ‘”Tamson’s” and then,

From the “Percy” to the “Central,”

She’s pining pretty badly by then,

To get back to a wobbly terra firma,

To get back simply to her natural height,

And so she sighs with every shoes removal,

Every one of four of them, according to her drunken eyes,

And she twirls around for every high heel strap,

That’s thrown around her wrist,

Then it’s time for heading off,

For a kebab and then a cab,

And the hardest part of her whole day,

Is to stand up straight, and hail a taxi,

While trying not to look too pissed,

And making sure she gets picked up,

By Saturday nights favourite boy,

Her faithful old Joe Baxi.


(c) Jim Laing 2016.

About Jim Laing

The Buddha said there were four kinds of people. Those who run from dark to dark, those who run from light to dark, those who run from dark to light and those who run from light to light. From a life going from dark to dark to having a few years running from dark to light, with scuffed hands and knees from sometimes falling, I may be getting the hang of it now. How it began is not now how it is, I need a quiet space, After the noise of the day, So I take sanctuary in the creativity, And my soul feeds, On sometimes dark, Sometimes light fantasy, And I dare like many to work, But stay up off my knees, To dream, perchance to suffer, But always still to dream. Here are things mostly lyrical and poetic, with nonsense sometimes, reviews and personal musings. The coffees hot and always black. The words not necessarily so.
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