Scotland, Boundless Chip of a Nation

The day the Scotland processor came on,
The land itself was darkened from the drain
Till, windmills spinning, taking up the strain,
The nation-chip began. Control lights shone.
The code we'd woven deep into the land
The bits and bytes in heather, pine and stone
In cities, towns and crofts, had spread, unknown,
Delivering the Web into our hand.
At Mercat Cross they read the proclamation:
We hold the world. It's time to take control.
We argued then, for Scotland isn't whole.
Whit?  Rule the world? We cannae run the nation!
The wisest knew the row would never halt,
And sitting back, enjoyed their single malt.

Originally posted on Making Light, in the context of Scotland taking over the internet.  The title is a reference to a James Crawford poem.