Doun Milk Street

higgledy-piggledy, helter-skelter, 
blankets thrown hell-for-leather

so mauny bairnies, they ha noo
ev’ry single room is fu

they’re sleeping in the lobby
an snorin in the bath

thir mother’s on Temazepam
an their faithir’s on the Lash

he’s crowded in the corner 
next tae a windae pane

he’d thoucht it’d be a pleasure
but noo it’s jist a bane

There’s thrawn fir yi…

up wae the sneck, he canna dauner
his cronies ir waitin roon the corner

nae plouterin aboot, oan wae his breeks
ensurin that he maks nae creeks

withershins he’s oot the windae
he dis it every day ‘cept Sunday

at least the council’d seen their plight
an moved them only jist last night

he sniffs the air, sweet whiffled peace
fane troubled by a mild caprice

a sliddery thoucht comes flichter’n past 
that this yin micht well be his last

it leaves him sair vexed an scunnart
maun, he’s a wanchancie dunnart

as tae his neb the truth comes vimmerin
it isnae moonlight he’s seen shimmerin

but aeroplanes lichts frae jist above
the roof o where he is thereof

he groans a curse his last adieu
Auld Nick’s cunning purlicue

tangle-foot’s last gruesome glare
he’s loupit frae the fifteenth flair

auld

habits

die

hard