Jim O´Windygates

JIM O'WINDYGATES
I heard a young lass in the langtoon
greetin' wi' her mates
oh she was in such a state
now greetin' at bustops will be her fate
greetin' for Jim O'Windygates
for he has died alone on largo law
wi his sweet face turned awa
fae the sea and the bitter spray
on a raw December day
I kent this guy
he was baith sap and sage
he lived in an iron age
of loneliness
no human heart could bless
as a child he pointed something out to me
lost roads that only he could see
across the lomond hills, and he
he could see ghosts a-riding down
through the reverb of a secret town
this story made bartenders frown
he said 'that's because you're ghosts as well'
they told Jim he could go to hell
'go to hell'
- of which he was never afraid
his car was a lovely old silver cadillac
with a false dawn painted on the back
and headlights searching souls
down long abandoned holes
where miners lives did crack
now their broken sons buy smack
and die in bleeding tracks