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