It's always better on holiday
  That's why we only work when we need the money
  
  Jacqueline was seventeen and working on the desk of the poetry library
  When she caught the eye behind Ivor's spectacle
  They shared tea, ideas and passions
  His eyes forgot the face they were peering from
  When they peered upon her face
  Well, you know that face as well as I do:
  Elastic youth and vitality, but when she returned the gaze
  She returned the face that he was staring from
  
  Gregor was down, kicked again and again by city centre neds
  "Look, I'm so drunk, I don't give a fuck - I don't mind if you kill me"
  At which point he claims angels dragged him into the back of a Ford Sierra
  And dumped him on Sauchiehall Street