Always the same, the Glasgow rain
Viewed under a grotesque grey sky.
My window pane, forever stained
Through wind carried water and rust,
From a watercolour horizon.
With a grimace, a brolly donned,
And into the street we go as
A bus splashes over a pothole
And my legs are soaked right through.
Even my socks, my toes and shoes.
It puts a dampener on yer day,
So it does, when a bus rattles past
Submerging your whole lower half.
Now I’m downtrodden and drenched
In a dirty drink.