The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #174564   Message #4232997
Posted By: GUEST
15-Dec-25 - 12:17 AM
Thread Name: Lyr Req: Alistair Hulett- Sleepy Scotland
Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Alistair Hulett- Sleepy Scotland
IN SLEEPY SCOTLAND
Words and music by Alistair Hulett (AMCOS)

In Sleepy Scotland
The pubs a’ look like air raid shelters
Haufway doon life’s helter skelter
Weans in tally suits an’ bunnets       (Italian suits and cloth caps)
Stagger intae bars and come oot
Shinin’ like electric saints in Spring
In Sleepy Scotland
Wha’s like us are damn few
An’ they’re a’ deid or in a queue
Wi’ their divvie cairds and Butlins badges   (dividend cards)
Hung aboot like starlings on a pylon
Linin’ up tae test their wings

And the last of the Mohicans
Tumbles oot o’ the Kiloran Bar
And blaws away like sagebrush doon the empty London Road
Fae god knows where tae god knows where

In Sleepy Scotland
Bingo queens wi’ windmill arms
Dance cheek tae cheek wi’ bold gendarmes
Bussed in by Black Marias                                     (Police wagons)
While the Billy Boys and Feniens
Droon the future in the bloodbath of the past
In Sleepy Scotland
The Dear Green Place stopped spinnin’ roon’
And festered like an open wound
Beneath a rusty Fairfield cran’ the wrecking ball swung doon
And wiped oot every dream that didnae vanish fast

And the last of the Mohicans
Pished his breeks and said he didnae care
Then blew away like sagebrush doon the empty London Road
Fae god knows where tae god knows where

And the fat cat wi’ the brief case in the camel coat and trilby
Said the way it’s noo’s the way it always was and always will be
This is Sleepy Scotland, pal, if boredom disnae kill me
We’ll keep Scotland sleepin’ on for years tae come

In Sleepy Scotland
A giant rose and gied a roar
Even the deaf could not ignore
It echoed doon the corridors of power
And maisters ran like rabbits
Hidin’ from the hunt inside their holes
In Sleepy Scotland
The fury of the dispossessed
Flowed like a sea of molten glass
An’ a’ the years of hopelessness
Turned overnight intae a sacred venom
That would scorch their very souls

And the last of the Mohicans tumbled intae the Kiloran Bar
Nursed a pint then blew away like sagebrush
Doon the road fae god knows where
Tae god knows where