St Andrew’s Bridge was where they all came
The sad, and the lonely, and the might-have-been
To drown in a river with a once-famed name
And be laid on a slab till the faculty claimed.
And some would come to be ‘hanged til’ death’
And to curse the judge with their dying breath.
And though watched over by a love-struck moon
Others plied their trade in death an’ gloom
And did they ever, once, even pause to think
Of the sons who died in the gutters’ …..
Or the mother’s sobs for her daughter’s loss
As she mouthed the words a’ The Auld Rugged Cross.
At Fleshers Heugh, an army marched off-
Royal Colours high!
To fight for a cause that refused to die
And the White Cockades would flee the field
But no Highland chief would their young prince yield.
And here they come when the days grow light
Where the children play tae their hearts’ delight.
Where the Auld Queen stands, majestic serene
Then bows her head at the sights she’s seen.
The Empress of India, Imperial fountainhead
And all of that innocent blood that was shed.
And what was it for, all that grief and that pain
That the few would grow rich in Vainglory’s name.
There’s a comfort remembering the glories we’ve seen
In deceiving ourselves with a past that’s a dream..

The sirens’-call of the gathering dark
The shadow of angels tiptoe through the park…