He never was a champion of women's rights,
His machismo a beacon for whole lost generations;
Of men who couldn't quite comprehend,
Or wanted to, that equality is a goal worth chasing.
And yet he wrapped himself in the Saltire,
The typical Scot in exile,
Not real, just like his Bond,
Be-wigged, clever camera angles hiding middle-aged spread.
The real tragedy is the legacy,
Still a hero to a fair few.
We often get the icons we don't quite deserve.