Rebel with a Scotch Pie

I’m going back a few years now, but when I was a lass.
I took work as barmaid, in a bid to earn some brass.
A nice hotel; but staff were starved and often half-awake.
Cos ten-hour shifts were normal, and we rarely got a break.

Of course, the staff had just the trick if stomachs started twitching.
They’d sneak off for two minutes and steal something from the kitchen.
The chance of decent left-overs was usually remote.
So, folk would grab what they could find and ram it down their throat.

But I was vegetarian; my hunt for meat-free pickings.
Often meant some cold chips or a yoghurt lid for licking.
Until a rebel force stemmed from starvation and torment
A day I’m still not proud of, but I’ll tell you how it went.

There I was with morning coffees, lunches and day trippers.
I rushed about for hours ‘til I had the hunger jitters.
Then rushing to the kitchen, praying for a meat-free prize;
My hopes were dashed cos all that I could find were two Scotch Pies.

Disgusted at the sight of them, my stomach gave a heave
I covered them back over and then quickly turned to leave.
But survival is an instinct; when your body needs some food
It’s funny how a warm Scotch Pie can suddenly smell good.

I don’t know quite what happened next but soon those pies were gone
I brushed the crumbs and fled the scene before the boss caught on.
But just my luck, because he planned to have them for his dinner.
No wonder he was in a rage, about the pie thief sinner.

Stomping round the building, well he questioned all the staff.
But when he got to me, I had to quell a nervous laugh.
Cos I was vegetarian, so when I stood accused.
I reminded him that Scotch Pies were the last thing I would choose.

I stress it only happened once, but still, it was a shame
Cos with nobody confessing, the head waiter got the blame
And though I still recall the joy of pastry stuffed with mince.
This Rebel with a Scotch Pie hasn’t touched another since.

scotch pie, confession, rebel eater