FYVIE MacSPORRAN

Fyvie MacSporran is a mean old sod,
And a tight old fist is he:
He has a nasty, mean little purse
Where many a moth will be.
He never will scrape any new coins out,
So only small change does it see;
It rarely can stomach the light of day,
With a snap like a trap for a flea.

Fyvie MacSporran hides this wee purse
In the depths of his kecks, you see;
He does not want to spend his dosh,
So has an "el-skimpo" tea.
It's down to the Co-op the cheapies to scan,
And to grab the 'buy-one-get-one-free',
He'll scavenge the pavements for pennies that dropped
Then home, where he has no TV.

Fyvie MacSporran lives in a small flat
That's crammed with stuff tight as can be;
He's worn out his bus pass through gross over-use
With dozens of rides for no fee.
He never will tidy this mucky old room,
He's too busy Gricing, you see -
But he won't ever skimp when he buys 'BIg Kids' toys',
Or when the Real Ale's flowing free!

*Gricing = Train spotting.
*Big KIds' Toys = Model Trains.