A hoast, a hoast, the peer wee quine
Aibdy murjin like she wis swine
Backin awa, the deil’s in her!
Protective airm, wirried mither

A neese, a neese, bent auld wifie
Shufflin alang, waskit an canny
Sikkin bog roll, pasta an bried
Skirtted aboot, wished she wis deid

The fear, the fear, coorse wee virus
Bidin awa; folks fit luve us
Hidin oot; safely at hame
Stalked by deeth, plague and famine

It’s here. It’s here; Armageddon
Lambs an trumpits, riders o garron
Wyt on steilert, sins an guid deeds
Folk will aye mynd; sinners an thieves

This is a poem written in Doric, which is a dialect of the Scots language and native to the north east of Scotland. It tries to capture the feelings from a trip to the local supermarket with the coronavirus very much on folks minds.