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Going Up To Edinburgh ©

Gordon Fjaelberg
Bridgend, Wales
1988

I'm sitting by the window
Vaguely watching scenery;
Inside a North-bound
Dining car, I partake of tea.
Isolated, all alone,
Chewing on a buttered scone;
Wondering what you are
And why I gave you the car.
I simply felt
I had to scream,
The waiter came
Around with cream,
Then tried to pour some
Over my head.
I've finally
Paid the rates
And the mortgage
Is up to date,
So out of debt
At least we stay.
But it's getting
Too much for me,
I'm away for
A week or three,
If I return,
I shall likely
See you straight away.

Your brother doesn't like me,
Your mother doesn't like me,
Your father hopes I'll fade away.
I'm going up to Edinburgh
For the weekend,
Feeling more inclined to stay.
So goodbye, I said;
Goodbye, I said;
Finally I'm on my way.
I'll review the situation
At Waverley station;
Don't wait,
I won't be back today.

A lady with a secret smile
Was seated opposite me.
Putting down her bags
She claimed to know phrenology.
Cogitating deep and still,
My brain slowly lost its will,
Going out in the night
Is not a wonderful sight.
The lady with
The smile then said:
"Hey man, you look
Like you're half dead.
Let me feel your bumps,
I can ease your pain."
From far away
Came her voice,
It left me then
But little choice;
I've been there once,
I won't do that today.
This was getting
Quite out of hand,
I've endured more
Than I can stand;
If I return,
I shall likely
See you straight away.

Your brother doesn't like me,
Your mother doesn't like me,
Your father hopes I'll fade away.
I'm going up to Edinburgh
For the weekend,
Feeling more inclined to stay.
So, goodbye I said;
Goodbye, I said;
Finally I'm on my way.
I'll review the situation
At Waverley station;
Don't wait,
I won't be back today.



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