Poems and Songs

Of Saints and Sinners

St. Vincent and McGonagall met one day for a blether;

They talked about photography, strong drink and Scottish weather,

And whether naughty limericks exactly rhymed were neater

Than serious verse that suffered from a hiccough occurring in the middle of its metre.

No fancy prints in colour, but black and white they’d choose,

(Though black and white’s photograph, with capitals - its booze!) 

And as for daft wee bits of film that some folk class as ‘slides’,

They gave McG the scunners and generally played havoc with his insides.

But they were black affronted by the members of that clan,

Disciples of St Vincent, who abandoned to a man

Their principles and purposes, and went to 68

To show their friend transparencies, without including a print even as small as a half-plate.

No intellectual exercise, set in the classic manner;

The theme, it seemed, was centred on just moving a piano,

With sunsets and with close-ups and some shots with a wide angle,

And a poor wee lass whose hand looked as if it had been caught up in “Not upon your Nelly.”

  “Wandered Minstrel” 



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