Stefan and Aaron come to Glasgow

Written for two of my Grandsons (Aston Villa fans as it happens) when they first came up from Wales to visit Glasgow


Friday Evening

Mammy shouts ‘we're running late, we’ve got to catch our flight,
Shift yourselves and pack your bags, or we’ll miss the plane tonight’!
‘Where the blinking heck is Dad, we need him with his car,
He phoned just half an hour ago and said he wasn’t far.’

‘Ah here he is’, no time to spare, make sure you’ve locked the door,
Count the cases, count the heads, make sure they number four,
Worry if you’ve fed the fish or the heating’s been turned down,
Too late for that, you’re on the road, relax and settle down.

And soon you’re soaring in the sky, the clouds like drifting snow,
And in the gaps, the twinkling lights of cars and homes below,
But then the seatbelt sign comes on, to say you’re landing soon,
Watched over by ‘wee Jimmy’ – The ScotsMan-in-the-moon.

Saturday Morning and afternoon

And now that you’re in Glasgow with Granddad, Mam and Dad,
In Scotland’s greatest city, where no ones ever sad,
You’ll see the sights, You’ll hear the sounds, You’ll feel its heart and soul,
So let’s cross the bridge and hit the town, its time to ‘Rock and Roll’.

At Paddy’s Market for a start we saw the poorest folk,
With all they owned for all to see, and sell to ease life’s yoke,
We wandered up the Gallowgate, in Glasgow’s hard east end,
Where laughter, shouts, and songs, and cries rang out on every bend.

We strolled into the Barras, a land of endless stalls,
Where everything you’d want to buy filled shelves, and drawers, and halls!
We doddled down Argyll street, we stuffed ourselves with chips,
Used every bridge that crossed the Clyde and dreamt of sailing ships.

But then we heard some music as some buskers set their pitch,
We stood, and listened, smiled, and laughed at a voice so full and rich,
And she sang songs that eased our hearts and soothed each troubled mind,
A gift that God had given her, to make up for being blind!

A thousand shops we visited, each one with a moving stair,
Or better still a soaring lift, that would shoot into the air,
Oh how you laughed as up we went, it gave you quite a kick,
But best of all when Mammy said ‘I think I’m feeling sick’

As the sun dipped in the sky and the moon’s shift just begun,
We chased the shadows out of town with Stefan’s mighty gun,
And Aaron still with ringing hat and bells upon his head,
Wished your Mam and Dad goodnight and drifted off to bed.!

Sunday Morning Afternoon and Evening

As Sunday morning broke the night, and from your bunks you fell,
'Twas Swimming time and splashing fun with Dad and Mum as well,
And then we got into a boat and sailed upon the Clyde,
Passed places where great ships were built on this river deep and wide.

And to Braehead and what is this, a fairground full of rides,
We went on dodgems, flying cars, castles, swings and slides,
But then the icing on the cake for in the hall we found,
A skating rink, with boots for hire where we went round and round.

At least I thought that’s what you’d do, but things appeared quite glum,
Cos everytime you tried to glide you skidded on your bum,
But like a deer who finds its feet, you started then to skate,
With leaps and jumps and pirouettes, the Olympics now await.

But seconds, minutes, hours and days, they fizzle then they’re gone,
But like the best of all the times the memories live on,
And though my home is now so quiet and you’ve returned to Wales,
I keep a smile within my heart in a way that never fails.

Since the Monday

I look around each room and check whose hiding behind the door,
I chase my shadow down the street and laugh until I’m sore,
Instead of walking down the stairs, I slide on my behind,
I put my hands in dusty places not knowing what I’ll find.

So thanks to you I’m young again, I think I’ll dye my hair,
I’ll get myself some Reeboks or Nike daps to wear,
I’ll wear some baggy trousers, and coat my locks with Gel
I’ll stuff my face with burgers until I don’t feel well.

I’ll throw myself from chair to floor, I’ll roll around in muck
I’ll turn my nose at brussels sprouts, and cabbage, turnips…yuck!
And just for me I’d like to think, as your head sinks in the pilla, (sorry about that one)
You’d dream the score was Celtic 4, and Nothing to Aston Villa!