It's always better on holiday

That's why we only work when we need the money



Jacqueline was seventeen and working on the desk of the poetry library

When she caught the eye behind Ivor's spectacle

They shared tea, ideas and passions

His eyes forgot the face they were peering from

When they peered upon her face

Well, you know that face as well as I do:

Elastic youth and vitality, but when she returned the gaze

She returned the face that he was staring from



Gregor was down, kicked again and again by city centre neds

"Look, I'm so drunk, I don't give a fuck - I don't mind if you kill me"

At which point he claims angels dragged him into the back of a Ford Sierra

And dumped him on Sauchiehall Street