The Life & Death of Alasdair Gray

I was walking out the other day from my wee flat in Cowcaddens,
When I met a prim young woman, her name was Miriam Adams,
I said I am a teacher, my name is Alasdair Gray,
She said you are, indeed, a cunt, but you’ll marry me today.

We walked to Botanic Crescent to find an open church,
She stopped to buy a bottle of wine and left me in the lurch,
The minister was old and bent, he held a lengthy service,
But I loudly shouted out, I do, I wasn’t scared or nervous.

Her mother sat upon the steps, she said, you’ve stolen my daughter,
She gave me a brown envelope then vanished doon the water,
We bought a flat in Maryhill then moved to Pollokshaws,
I drank a lot, we had three kids and fought with her in-laws.

In 1984 we split and went our separate ways,
I went upon a tour of pubs and was out for many days.
At last sobriety duly dawned, I found myself in Bute,
But of how I’d got there I’d no clue of what had been my route.

I met a girl called Agnes Owens at a creative writing class,
I asked if she would marry me, she said I was an ass,
So I wrote a list in bullet points, I called it a short story,
And sold it to the BBC to play on Jackanory.

The phone rang in my living room, ’twas the men from Cannongate,
They said we’d like to publish you at a fast approaching date,
They said we will deliver you from your Central Scotland dive,
But alas I died in poverty in November 2005.

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Filed under black humor, black humour, comic verse, funny poem, humor, humorous verse, humour, Nonsense verse, parody, poetry, whimsy

One response to “The Life & Death of Alasdair Gray

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