Award-winning poet slams Trump

A Scottish poet won this year's Dunedin Robert Burns Poetry Competition with a piece critiquing the rise to power of US President Donald Trump.

President Donald Trump. Photo: Reuters

Lorna Wallace (24) of Kilmarnock, Scotland won the published poets section for her poem A Scot' s Lament fur her American Fellows (Oan their election of a tangerine gabshite walloper) a scathing lament for the Americans who have to deal with his leadership.

She wrote her first Burns-inspired poem in 2014, Tae A Selfie, which went viral on Facebook and Twitter overnight and was published in Poetry Scotland magazine, excerpts of it in The Times and in a poetry anthology.

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''I thought it would be fun to imagine the things he'd write about if he were alive today.''

So her entry in the competition was about the election of Donald Trump.

''I like that it is very relevant. Out of all the entries this probably had the finger most on the pulse,'' competition judge Victor Rodger said.

''I was thinking if he [Burns] was alive today what would impress him and I think this would tickle his funny bone,'' he said.

A Scot' s Lament fur her American Fellows (Oan their election of a tangerine gabshite walloper)

America, aw whit ye dain?!
How could ye choose a clueless wain
Ti lead yir country? Who wid trust
A man sae vile?!
A racist, sexist eedjit
Wi a shite hairstyle?

Yet lo, ye votit (michty me!)
Ti hawn’  this walloper the key
Ti pow’r supreme, ti stert his hateful,
Cruel regime.
A cling ti hope that this is aw
Jist wan bad dream.

But naw, the nightmare has come true,
A curse upon rid, white an’  blue,
An’  those who cast oot Bernie
Must feel sitch regret
Fur thinkin’  Mrs. Clinton
Was a safer bet.

So noo we wait ti see unfold
Division an’  intolerance, cold;
A pois’nous bigotry untold
Since Hitler’s rule
As the free world’ s hopes an’  dreams
Lie with this fool.

Alas, complainin’  wullnae change
The fact this diddy has free range
Ti ride roughshod ow’r human beings
That fall outside
The cretinous ideals borne of
His ugly pride.

Awch USA, we feel yir woes
An’  pour oor wee herts oot ti those
Who ken this oarange gabshite isnae
Who they chose,
But jist sit tight;
Trump’s cluelessness
Will time expose.

Fur sittin’  there beside Obama
Efter the election drama,
Trump looked like reality
Had finally hit:
Aboot the role of president
He knew Jack shit.

Poutin’, glaikit through this farce,
His mooth wis pursed up like an arse,
His Tangoed coupon glowin’  like
A skelped backside.
Despite all his bravado
Trump looked keen ti hide.

Let’s therefur no despair an’  greet,
Or see this outcome as defeat.
Let’s wait an’  watch this bampot
Flap his hawns an’  squirm
When presidential pressures
Crush him like a worm.

Hawd oan ti values you hold dear,
Don’t let this numpty bring yi fear,
His chants of hatred don’t speak fur
The human race.
Love will endure despite this
Oarange-faced disgrace.

So USA, in ma conclusion,
Know we Scots feel your confusion:
We are also chained ti those
Not of oor choosin’ .
Stand firm fur unity will break
Through Trump’s delusion.