(Or what if Paul Simon got bored when stuck on a road in Scotland)

When our cars can’t hurtle down the motorways
And we all just have to wait in line
Four lanes are there, only one is open
We can read the writing on the sign

Traffic cone
Show up in their orange colour
On the melted roads of summer
Makes you think the council’s here to stay, Oh yeah
I got my phone’s camera
I’d better take a photograph
The Scots’ll take our traffic cones away

If you looked at all the statues around Glasgow
Standing sombre in their greying suits
There’s only one place a traffic cone belongs
That’s on the dome of the Iron Duke

Traffic cone
Show up in their orange colour
On the melted roads of summer
Makes you think the council’s here to stay, Oh yeah
I got my phone’s camera
I’d better take a photograph
The Scots’ll take our traffic cones away

The Scots’ll take your traffic cones away
The Scots’ll take your traffic cones away
The Scots’ll take your traffic cones away

The Scots’ll take your traffic cones
The Scots’ll take your traffic cones
The Scots’ll take your traffic cones away

The Scots’ll take your traffic cones
It’s on a metal head today
The Scots’ll take your traffic cones away

The Scots’ll take your traffic cones, mm
The Scots’ll take your traffic cones away
Okay

(Alternative lyrics by Louise Pull)