Final week. Wednesday: Classic Car (The Always Look Underneath Song)

Always wanted an S type Jaguar

It’s wasn’t the old man’s favourite car

That was a Cortina 1600E to tell the truth

Olympic Gold, with Rostyle wheels and a black vinyl roof

But we travelled in old VX490s, Vivas

Drove to the Gospel Hall, we true believers

Where the preachers said the devil was a trickster

Who seduced us with Vauxhalls, with Crestas and Victors

A classic car

memory and pride

More than just a ride

A classic car

It’s the life you never had

Better than  your dad’s

A classic car

I bought a Wolseley, expecting it to smell

Like  I was 10, in a taxi to a Largs  hotel

But it reeked of damp and mildew, of fibreglass and rust

On the A80 in Moodiesburn, it finally bit the dust

You can’t go back, you can’t return

To when it didn’t matter how much fuel you burned

When smoking was good for your health

And you could let the babies sleep upon the parcel shelf

You can’t go back, maybe remembering is sweet

But history is what we learn so we don’t have to repeat

Build a useless border, sing some songs and raise a flag

Then from some wide-boy dealer, you buy a bodged-up deathtrap Jag

It looked great in the showroom, it filled your heart with pride

All your limousine ambitions that could not be denied

The deal is done, the trouble start, you’re in a world of pain

And you realise that you can’t go back, you can’t go back home again

Copyright 2014 Scar Quilse. All rights reserved.

Final week, a song a day, Tuesday: Scottish Forever (The Disagreement Song)

I’m a Tunnocks Teacake, you’re salt and sauce

You like cowping your caber, I couldn’t give a toss

I’m in favour of the great salt and vinegar snog

You prefer to cuddle up with a Caramel Log

We share a love of the great Vindaloo

And a nan bread each, never one between two

I’m Lagavulin or Ardbeg, you’re Glenlivet or Grants

I wear breeks, you like a kilt with stout underpants

And we’ll be Scottish forever

Agreeing never

No matter where we go

Yes or No

I’ll have Loch Lomond, you can have Loch Ness

We’ll share the monster and the wallabies, that’s probably best

Tennents or McEwens, Belhaven or Deuchars

I’ll have porridge with salt, you can have yours with sugar

I’ll just say this, we disagree

It’s Yes for you and No for me

But that’s all right, I have no doubt

I’ll be fine once the stitches get taken out

I’m for pan fried scallops, you’re into Scampi Fries

I prefer the real thing, you prefer the lies

I’m not saying I’m right, I’m not saying you’re wrong

Actually, I am. I’ve been right all along

Words and music copyright Scar Quilse 2014. All rights reserved.

Final week: A song a day, Monday. Snake Handlers in Kirkintilloch (The Act of Faith Song)

Inspired by this video of a poor deluded soul in the USA whose act of faith led to death at the hands of a rattlesnake.



My daughter's gone to live in Milton Keynes
She says she knows what independence will mean
My son's in Wick, he says the country's a mess
But if it makes things worse he'll still vote yes

I've been feeling depressed for the last two years
It's like the 18th century is still happening here
Fighting over the fate of this wee nation
Like trans versus consubstantiation

Now there's a new church down the street from me
They say they worship a God who wants Scotland free
And to prove that God doesn't make mistakes
They like to sing happy songs and play with poisonous snakes

Snake handlers in Kirkintilloch
They believe in God and border controls
Snake handlers in Kirkintilloch
Where a bite from a Copperhead can save your soul

I saw a Black Mamba and a coastal Taipan
The preacher had one of each in either hand
He shouted I believe in everything Nicola said
Then the Mamba bit him and he dropped down dead

I bought a house on the River Tweed
It's got everything I could possibly need
The border runs right across the living room floor
My own United Kingdom when I shut the door

And if they insist on a wall and some razor wire
Between the television and the electric fire
I'll tell them exactly where they can go
I had my own referendum and I voted no

But now there are Snake handlers in Selkirk
They believe in God and border controls
Snake handlers in Selkirk
They say a bite from a Copperhead will save your soul

But they'll secretly admit they're going to vote No

Copyright Scar Quilse, words and music, 2014. All rights reserved

Stay Together (The Treachery Song)

Don't call me  a traitor
Because I love both north and south
You should do some thinking, son
Before you open your mouth

 I believe in democracy
That doesn't stop where you draw a line
In justice on the Forth, the Clyde
The Mersey, and the Tyne If we stay together
We can keep each other strong
So let's stand together
That's where we belong

 I never liked to gamble
Because I've seen what it can do
I believe in right and wrong
And I think that you do too

 In the times we're living in today
You can't hide behind a wall
A flag will never be enough
This world is much too small


Words and music copyright Scar Quilse 2014. All rights reserved.

My Nationalist Girlfriend (The Egg Song)

My nationalist girlfriend
She's not my girlfriend anymore
Seduced by an activist
She says she's not a separatist
 But we're separated now
I still love her anyhow
Despite the Saltire tattoo on her cheek
And the eggs she threw at me last week

My nationalist girlfriend
I'm not her boyfriend
She's not my girlfriend anymore

She believes in a currency deal
She's got a poster of Alex Neil
I said it was him or me
She said: it's just a fantasy
 But then she was canvassing in Milngavie
Met Iain, aged 50, into Hue and Cry
I said at least it's not Runrig she said he likes them too
And he's got every album released by Deacon Blue

My nationalist girlfriend
I'm not her boyfriend
She's not my girlfriend anymore

She says MI5 are active in the No campaign
They tear down posters, they break windows
And it's Yes that gets the blame
She says Eddi Reader said so, it must be true like it or not
That unionists are evil Quislings, traitors to the Scots

And I have a picture of her it's true
Just the week before she got the tattoo
I keep it next to my heart
Even though she has torn it apart

My nationalist girlfriend
She's not my girlfriend anymore

Copyright Scar Quilse 2014. All rights reserved.

A Wholly Healthy Happy Scotland (the homeopathy song)

A Wholly Healthy Scotland (The Tartan Partan Song)
 I believe in Angus the Tartan Partan
I believe there are fairies at the bottom of my garden
I believe in the National Collective
 I believe that Taggart was a real detective

 And I believe in a wholly healthy, happy Scotland

 I believe that North Sea oil will last forever
I believe that Alex Salmond used to be quite clever
I read Scottish books, they’re my artistic heartland
I love that Lesley Riddoch and that Barbara Cartland I believe in a wholly healthy happy Scotland

 A pure unblemished Scotland
Where no-one gets sick or ill
That’s the promise that’s been made to us
And I believe it still
There will be no sorrow there will be no pain
And we will qualify for the World Cup again
We’ll drink cocktails made of Eldorado, Buckfast and Champagne
In Scotland A wholly healthy, happy Scotland

 Doctors say they’ll leave, but we just laugh
We’ll have nurse practitioners and homeopaths
And so much oil the North Sea’s greasy
We’ll abolish death. It’ll be quite easy

 For I believe in a wholly healthy happy Scotland

 And it will last for a thousand years
There will be no more anguish, there will be no more tears
And everything will blossom Just like Norway
Just like Norway

The Nearest Thing to Dreams (The Fergusons Song)

 The quote from the Salford poet Robert Rose jumped out at me from a tweet posted by Dumbarton MSP Jackie Baillie. Fergusons is the last non-military shipyard on the Clyde and the last of any sort on the Lower Clyde. It now being in administration, with the potential loss of 70 jobs, is a tragedy for the communities of Port Glasgow and Greenock.


“Ships are the nearest things to dreams that hands have ever made,
For somewhere deep in their oaken hearts the soul of a song is laid.”

 Robert N Rose


 Heard there’s a padlock on the gates today
Went down to check, I just walked away
The Prince of Wales for a pint or two
Try to think of something else to do

 One hundred and eleven years
That’s how long there’s been a shipyard here
Not one order on the books they say
They’re saying nothing about our back pay

 The nearest things to dreams That hands have made or ever will
Now all our hopes and dreams
Have turned to unpaid bills
Through calm and storm
Those ships are sailing still
 The nearest things to dreams

 Politicians do the stuff they always do
Say it’s very sad, that much at least is true
They say there are jobs for us, that things just might be fine
In call centres, or one pound shops, or selling junk online

 And in my house there’s pictures on my walls
Too many names for me to say them all
Flying Foam, the Flying Spray, Scotia, Sulisker
The Star Capella, Tirrick and the Shalder were built here

 The Fivla and the Loch Dunvegan, Isle of Arran, Stirling Spey
The Pharos and the Falcon, the Hebrides, the Stirling Tay
I look at them, nothing can change the way I feel
The pride and mystery of my seagoing steel