| Dugs and Yeel - Sport|
On a fegs caal nicht,
I rowe up til I die,
an step ootside an fin it's like an ice-pole.
I win at the astro an it looks like an ice-rink,
The grun is as sair as coggle an you can barely stand.
Efter we're back fae oor run we're still caal,
An the coaches say "Ach get on we it."
It's time for your icey watter slidin doon yir throat,
You can barely open the bottle fae i ice.
Time for ball work but ers aboot an inch o ice
Shinin o i baw
And whun you fung it
It feels like you've kicked your bed.
by Campell McDermott
The sweemers line up ahin the blocks,
The timers ridy wi their clocks,
A fite clad timer's whustle blas,
And the competitors tak thir pose.
The pooerfae wirds Tak Yer Marks is heard,
The sweemers get ridy to flee like a bird,
The buzzer gans aff wi an electric beep,
The sweemers' costumes arena so chaip.
They streamline efter the flags,
Then they surface efter ane o them gags,
They start tae sweem at a swift pace,
But as it gans an they hiv tae race.
They push aff wi aa their might,
Noo the last length they aa hiv tae fight.
Lungs are greetin
But they dinna gie up.
The sweemers smash their hans aff the waa,
The first tae touch the best o aa
The podium ane, twa and three
Sweemers sayin I hope it's me.
by Holly Shand
The timer went aff and the min said go
I yokit tae rype my arms as fast as I cwid
An yokit tae move my legs tae the beat
My tow wis gan sae fast you couldn't see it
And I keepit gan till the 30 seconds wis up
I keekat at the board and saw my score
An then I heard the spectators roar.
I wis so happy wi my score
And aa the hard-vrocht darg hid payed aff.