Wee Shug

If you ever go to Da Vinci’s you will see him standing there

He’s the wee man with the walking stick leaning on a chair

Hue Grant was the name he was given, but we all know him as Shug

You better not give him any cheek or he’ll slap you roond the lug

 

He was dragged up in Glesga and everyone feared his name

Cause just as quick as you looked at him; he would chib you with his cane

He is five foot high stocky built and wears a pair of braces

His enemies of bygone years have slash marks on their faces

 

He walks with a limp but don’t be fooled, into thinking he is a canter

He’ll rip you up into wee shreds using his Glasgow banter

 

When he was a boy he had a dream, he wanted to be a sailor

The royal navy rejected him so he got a job as a tailor

Making bespoke suits for gangsters, that’s where he cut a living

He used the tailor’s big sharp sheers to do his very first chibbing

 

He moved to Livingston’s Redwing Brea and Da Vinci’s was his local

No tailor’s jobs for Shug in the town, so signed onto the social

His fighting days in Glasgow became a thing of the past

His leg was getting worse each day, and he couldn’t move as fast

 

He suffered for years living with pain and drinking pints of lager

Dragging  his leg behind him in what’s known as the Shugie swagger

 

Now he’s off to the Murryfield and he’s getting a brand new hip

When he gets out he’ll be good as new, so don’t give him any lip

He’s taking up jogging and running up hills, and he’s throwing away his stick

And roomer has it; at the end of the year he’s going to play for the Tic

 

Life’s not easy when your five foot tall and shirts done fit your neck

When your highlight comes at the end of the week, in the shape of a giro cheque

Shug never lets life get him down; he keeps a smile for all

To be a great man like wee Shug you don’t have to be big and tall

 

All the best Wee Shug

Get well soon

 

Martin Sweeny