By way of a remembrance,
here's the only Alex Glasgow song I sing;

MY LOVE AND I

My love and I, we chose to read, a book which had been well reviewed,
And since the critics had all agreed we thought it might be rather rude,
Primitive, Passionate, mid flowing meadow grass,
The countryside cavortings of the suburban middle class,
And true to expectations it didn't take the author long,
They were bedded in the buttercups at the bottom of page one.

but:
When we tried to emulate to recreate this happy state;

I got earwigs in my navel, she got spiders in her hair,
The thistles prickled constantly, the cows turned up to stare,
The sun went in behind a cloud, the rain began to fall,
And I got stung, and what a sting, where you shouldn't get stung at all. - Oh!

My love and I, we sought advice, from certain weekly magazines,
They all supplied, fantastic guides, which promised wild erotic dreams,
There was rubberised euphoria with complicated schemes,
For ultimate fulfillment with helmets whips and creams,
The details were amazing and the pictures made us gasp,
We felt that satisfaction now was well within our grasp.

but:
When we tried to emulate to recreate this happy state;

In the doorway to the bedroom well my Prussian helmet stuck,
I'd mis-heard the invitation what she really said was duck,
We tried a Kama Sutra trick and landed in a heap,
And frankly after half an hour we laughed ourselves to sleep.

My love and I, we saw a film, a masterpiece the papers said,
So sensative and deeply felt and not a single scene in bed. - Instead,
They chose the midnight hour on a silent moonlit beach,
The bodies and the cellos reached a fine ecstatic pitch,
The camera panned to the winking, glistening wavelets on the shore,
And left my love and me still sighing, crying out for more.

but:
When we tried to emulate to recreate this happy state;

Well the temperature at midnight was perhaps a trifle cool,
And the North Sea tide had failed to clear a nearby stagnant pool,
We might have been successful yet but the sand got in the way,
Perhaps it's not the kind of thing designed for Whitley Bay.

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Words:Alex Glasgow
Tune: Alex Glasgow

AndyG