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At e start o zero-two did
ye do e usual thing
By resolvin till do better as e midnicht bells did ring,
Lek throwin off yur faggies choost till gie yur lowngs a break,
An abstainin fey e drink for yur battered liver's sake.
Now we all ken
Howgmanay's no e time till make a start
As we raise wur gless till future as e owld year diz depart,
Then we toast wur freends an femillies, e cat an even dowg
E budgie, neighbours even queen until we've filled wur bowg.
Next some chiel takes a
faggie oot an puffs id b'low yur nose
E de'il's his neyme, id gets too much, ye hev till take a dose,
E Woodbine packid's resurrected, fill yur lowngs wi smok,
Say "At's choost fit ah needed" as ye cought lek fit till chock.
An as for eytin no much
meyt till shift yin corporation,
Ye've pleytes o peices shoved at ye, e worst o pure temptation,
so gorge until yur buttons burst an zip rolls doon yur breeks,
An sweyt stans oot on shiny broo as still ye pack yur cheecks.
Now, for bein a better
person and refusin for till girn,
Although ah'm quite good-natured ah'll admit ah've hed ma turn,
An sometimes fan e bairns go wrong an noise ah canna stan
Ah gie in till ee twitchin message comin fey ma han.
So fit the heck an fit's
e worth o lookin for a cure,
Wur only here a short time then a long time deyd for sure,
Boot resolutions are choost meyde so broken they can be,
Ah mebbe wi'll hev more resolve in two thousand an three. |