Scotland
Old Abbey, sir if you could talk Amidst the smoke and iron locks still better that than Glasgow docks A dark and bitter town Coates name and statue all the while like some old goat who turned a smile closed mills with thread and smashed up tiles A dark and bitter town Up the hill where I was born A child still lost and more forlorn while farms fed hens on cheapest corn A dark and bitter town Schools divided by their faith what the hell, we all say Grace? Fighting labels just for face A dark and bitter town Night time comes and there she stands some old hag with arms like strands takes your money behind some van A dark and bitter town