With apologies to William McGonagall

It was in the year Twenty Fourteen
That a sicht that had lang nae been seen
Cam oe'r the sea wi' grim intent
Twas a battleship the Russians had sent

Wi' guns, and bombs and missiles tae
They steamed taewards the Firth of Moray
What manner o' deil was this afoot?
Had they come in peace or wad they shoot?

The crofters and sheep wi' fear were fu'
Was this their end? Naebody knew.
Wad fire upon their nappers rain doon?
And vaporise ev'ry city and toon?

But soon enough, they saile'd awa'
Tae a land wi' sand, like Arabia
And thanks was gi'en tae God above
Wha' showed the Scots his heavenly love

But than again, he created Alex Salmond
So he cannae ha' been a' that clivvir.