Larkhall

1
Larkhall The trees grow tall abune the wall that
keeps oot all the killjoys, and keeps in all the
cowboys, The main street winds roon narrow minds
but it takes all kinds of people, some even go
tae chapel, Bigotry pours oot the drains like
blue blood runs through the veins of princes, and
on Sundays, Everybody goes tae church, it disnae
cost them very much tae worship, when the pubs
are shut. And they tell me that yince youre
ower the wall, It really isnae a that bad at
all, and a Free Mason can really have a ball, in
Larkhall, up in Larkhall. Drums and flutes,
mairchin boots, purple suits and banners, and
thats juts the toon planners, Songs are sung of
battles won by every Loyal son and daughter,
lambs tae the slaughter, When everybody walks in
pairs and every step they take declares their
hatred, naethin is sacred, God wears a fitba
scarf and the sun sets like an orange sash in the
distance, but theyre a good Christians. And
they tell me that yince youre ower the wall, it
really isnae a that bad at all as long as yer
names no John Paul, in Larkhall, up in
Larkhall. The grass is green but its always
been and even the Queen of England cannae change
it, but ye can always paint it, The pavement too
would look bran new red, white and blue, just
like the pailins aroon the playground, Where
children learns whats richt from wrang frae the
words they see spray painted on the
buildings, and then their ain children, grow up
jist the very same wi an attitude thats never
changed for decades, its jist a wee place.
But they tell me that yince youre ower the
wall, It really isnae a that bad at all and the
distance tae the moon is very small, in Larkhall,
up in Larkhall.