"WHEN THE HAAR ROLLS IN"
JAMES YORKSTON
You asked me to jump the 45 measured feet
into the water, but I am no folly built for your lazy pleasure,
if only it were so.
Your hands were fairly stone cold as you placed them on
my neck, we climbed off the train at Birnam
we anchored out city living to our rural past.
High above the fields of Killiecrankie
we made up rhymes and names for passing polite
strangers, you dared me out of earshot, faces beamed behind backs.
Macgregor pulling on his lead to climb more snowed up
steps, my winter jacket cast me out as a well dressed loon,
existing on the margins, exciting to be sharing Christmas with you all.
I thought I'd see you up the Birks O'Aberfeldy,
as if some common thoughts would bring us together 10
years later for nothing really just a look just to drink you in.
I carry your memory like a big bag full of feathers
once stuck in the back of my throat but now a warming
dream finally.
And now I'm more concerned about keeping the neighbours
cat out of my garden than who you may or may not be fucking
and who may be dancing a jig in the middle.
How stupid I was believing in fate and fairness
and all the big questions that I could not answer
so I busied myself with the flippancy of art.
The genius is the subtlety of the waves lapping on the shore
slowly taking over the dry shale with it's salty tongue
like a lounge singer.
And uppity nonchalance uncaring for the land
it's reclaiming uncaring for the crowds it's drawing
the next day I shall walk in it's wake.
Discovering the bones and the pottery once a native of
this shoreline paying a visit to the coast hoping to be recognised by
descendants of descendants and taken in and loved.
Discovering the bones and the pottery once a native of
this shoreline paying a visit to the coast hoping to be recognised by
descendants of descendants and taken in and loved.
From Baltimore we sailed hoping to escape my temper
I put you in a song wrapped you up with cotton wool
I cast you as an angel battling my demons.
Cold bloodedly you took your opportunity
a North London Hogmanay the year my faith was shattered
a sunken city came alive with fireworks.
Eager to please I sang like a stranger
and me and my Taig friends we drank you under the table
and the music you swore by it was nothing it was terrible.
Scared by the noise of your shrieking
the dog chased ghosts in the kitchen
he tore up newspapers and ate all the jam and the glassware
you collected was smashed and lilting on the floor.
When the saddening sweeps through me like a stubborn
sea wind when I'm feeling my worst and the best news in world
fails to move me and I cannot bare your touch or to share a word
or gossip or humour well that's when I need you most
just to be here to be quiet and warm and free with the
drink until I forget such moments exist.
When the haar rolls in it's just a question of waiting
it out and that's when the music I swear gets me through
I close my eyes and everything is OK.
When the haar rolls in it's just a question of waiting
thing out and that's when the music I swear gets me through
I close my eyes and everything's OK.
From Baltimore we sailed hoping to escape my temper
I put you in a song wrapped you up with cotton wool
I cast you as an angel battling my demons.
A North London Hogmanay the year my faith was shattered.
into the water, but I am no folly built for your lazy pleasure,
if only it were so.
Your hands were fairly stone cold as you placed them on
my neck, we climbed off the train at Birnam
we anchored out city living to our rural past.
High above the fields of Killiecrankie
we made up rhymes and names for passing polite
strangers, you dared me out of earshot, faces beamed behind backs.
Macgregor pulling on his lead to climb more snowed up
steps, my winter jacket cast me out as a well dressed loon,
existing on the margins, exciting to be sharing Christmas with you all.
I thought I'd see you up the Birks O'Aberfeldy,
as if some common thoughts would bring us together 10
years later for nothing really just a look just to drink you in.
I carry your memory like a big bag full of feathers
once stuck in the back of my throat but now a warming
dream finally.
And now I'm more concerned about keeping the neighbours
cat out of my garden than who you may or may not be fucking
and who may be dancing a jig in the middle.
How stupid I was believing in fate and fairness
and all the big questions that I could not answer
so I busied myself with the flippancy of art.
The genius is the subtlety of the waves lapping on the shore
slowly taking over the dry shale with it's salty tongue
like a lounge singer.
And uppity nonchalance uncaring for the land
it's reclaiming uncaring for the crowds it's drawing
the next day I shall walk in it's wake.
Discovering the bones and the pottery once a native of
this shoreline paying a visit to the coast hoping to be recognised by
descendants of descendants and taken in and loved.
Discovering the bones and the pottery once a native of
this shoreline paying a visit to the coast hoping to be recognised by
descendants of descendants and taken in and loved.
From Baltimore we sailed hoping to escape my temper
I put you in a song wrapped you up with cotton wool
I cast you as an angel battling my demons.
Cold bloodedly you took your opportunity
a North London Hogmanay the year my faith was shattered
a sunken city came alive with fireworks.
Eager to please I sang like a stranger
and me and my Taig friends we drank you under the table
and the music you swore by it was nothing it was terrible.
Scared by the noise of your shrieking
the dog chased ghosts in the kitchen
he tore up newspapers and ate all the jam and the glassware
you collected was smashed and lilting on the floor.
When the saddening sweeps through me like a stubborn
sea wind when I'm feeling my worst and the best news in world
fails to move me and I cannot bare your touch or to share a word
or gossip or humour well that's when I need you most
just to be here to be quiet and warm and free with the
drink until I forget such moments exist.
When the haar rolls in it's just a question of waiting
it out and that's when the music I swear gets me through
I close my eyes and everything is OK.
When the haar rolls in it's just a question of waiting
thing out and that's when the music I swear gets me through
I close my eyes and everything's OK.
From Baltimore we sailed hoping to escape my temper
I put you in a song wrapped you up with cotton wool
I cast you as an angel battling my demons.
A North London Hogmanay the year my faith was shattered.
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