SLAM!

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Here is the Bird that never flew
Here is the Tree that never grew
Here is the Bell that never rang
Here is the Fish that never swam.

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The train doors open with tetchy sighs
And smells of diesel and hot scotch pies
Morning commuters jostle and throng
We must keep up! The beat goes on!
Out into the City of Sandstone
Each one intent on where they're going
Past cons enduring inside Bar-L
Her Majesty's Pleasure in their cell

Taxi men toot with vigorous signs
Van drivers parked on two yellow lines
Insults are invented and exchanged
Some are intriguing some deranged
An old man boards a fume-belching bus
He's told not to smoke and kicks up a fuss
A homeless man sells The Big Issue
And fake sob stories real three-tissue
In front of a shop that sells antiques
And staffed by two turbaned tartaned Sikhs


A pub door notice 'No Colours' jars
But it's football scarves that's banned in bars
This city is far less sectarian
Now toxins flow subterranean

Church bells jangle time over the Clyde
A pleasure boat rocks from side to side
As it fills with tourists cash in hand
For a trip with a bumps-a-daisy band
Past shipyards gone but not forgotten
Where men once wiped Queen Mary's bottom
Past classical mansions that were paid
With profits accrued from the Slave Trade
But guides put the source as 'Tobacco'
We're genteel now, and pretend to not know