13/06/2026
Sleep Can Wait 🏴 🥳
It’s two in the mornin, the hoose is still,
But nae yin’s sleepin, no by free will.
Aw week in school it’s aw they’ve spoke,
Scotland’s back at the World Cup, nae joke.
New tops oan, the badges gleam,
Flags hing oot, livin the dream.
The Tartan Army’s took ower Boston toon,
Pipes and songs ring roond aboon.
Twenty-eight years since that last game played,
Since Morocco, June ’98, memories made.
For the wee yins though, it’s somethin new,
Somethin their mammies and daddies knew.
“Straight tae bed!” the parents cry,
“Ye’ll never last till two a.m. if ye try!”
Alarms are set, phones charged tight,
Nae chance they’re missin this historic night.
Then comes the shout…
“Wake up son!”
“Wake up hen!”
“It’s Scotland time!”
Sleepy eyes and messy hair,
Scotland taps flung on wi care.
Doon the stairs, a bleary grin,
As Scotland’s eleven march proudly in.
McTominay. Robertson. McGinn an aw.
Heroes tae kids they’ve never saw.
Then comes the anthem, loud and strong,
Every livin room sings along.
“Flower of Scotland…”
Wee voices crack, hearts beat fast,
Waitin on moments built tae last.
Will McTominay leather a belter in?
Send the nation aff its heid again?
Maybe he will, maybe he might,
That’s the magic o a World Cup night.
Parents sneakin photos by the screen glow bright,
Catchin smiles in the middle o the night.
A picture snapped, forever kept,
Proof o the night nae bairn slept.
Years fae noo they’ll mind it clear,
Exactly where they sat that year.
The flags, the songs, the sleepy faces,
The dream o Scotland on football’s biggest stages.
And when the camera pans the crowd above,
There’s a nation watchin wi pride and love.
Two in the mornin.
Sleep can wait.
Scotland’s back.
And history’s date.