A’ met a man on
holiday
But don’t remember whur he came frae
His cases packed an gauin hame
A’ didnae even catch his name
He looked sae sad that Friday eve
A’ thocht he disnae want tae leave
But a wis soon tae hear the truth
Here’s the story fae the horses mooth
How’re you doin? Feelin well?
Naw, am stuck here in this keyboard hell
A must hiv been an awfy sinner
Cos ‘Cos every nicht richt before dinner
An’ ‘cos wee canny wander far
We sit up at the cocktail bar
The lichts are bricht they look richt braw
Sippin cocktails through a straw
The lounge bar is a punters heaven
‘Cos it’s Happy Hour twixt six an seven
We sit wi’ ithers an’ have a laff
Talkin aboot the Hotel’s staff
An wan wee lad called Alberto
He’s tryin tae be a Gigalo
A’ll knock the Buggers slick heid aff
If he tries tae chat ma better haff
Another couple next tae us
Soon make a hurried exodus
A’ thoucht – that couple’s really rude
An’ then a’ smell’t the smell o’ food
A’ realised whit sent them hither
It wis the smell o’ fresh cooked dinner
Doon the hall an through the door
Like many folk hud din before
Grab a plate an fill it fu’
Wi’ things like Past, Steak or Stew
There’s plenty here from which tae choose
Except of course nice bottled booze
Tho’ am nae buff, a’ draw the line
At crappy carrafed “Rose” wine
Dinner o’er an stomachs fue
It’s back up fur some decent brew
A cocktail or a pint of beer
Soon fills us up wi happy cheer
Sittin here ma wife an me
Listenin tae Scots reverie
The company is really guid man
The wife looks fine she’s goat a tan
The weathers fine here in October
Then, something chills me – maks me sober
What shock has caused this? Can’t ye tell
It’s the resident musicians KEYBOARD HELL
Oskar Douglas
