In one of them the voice is bummed out, in the other it's happy - extraordinary to think that a person's youth was not one amorphous mood
AVIEMORE
It happened when I was in Aviemore.
Where folk were skiing, folk were fishing, I
Was doing nothing. That’s what I went for;
For two days sitting miserably by,
As life went on around me. Snow was thin,
I’m told, and didn’t really start till we
Were driven back round mountain corners in
A faulty car which skewed precariously.
We stopped at a mechanic in Dundee,
Took a bus back to make our football match.
I didn’t reach home ‘til ‘round half past three.
1571 … and I couldn’t quite catch
Each word of every message. Aviemore;
this, I suppose, was what I went there for.
DUNDEE
The taxi back from Dundee dropped us right
In front of Atholl as the next day rose.
And what a night it’d been, and what a night,
When time and time again, space freely froze.
We’d had our dinner early to make sure
We watched the football, and the football stopped
At random when it tacked to the right score.
And after we’d all watched champagne corks popped
We hopped in convoy ‘cross the gaudy Tay
And split the team for different escapades.
And twenty-two pounds was a lot those days,
Enough for tipsy ticker tape parades.
And what a night it was, though undersung …
So stupid, careless, shocked by joy, and young.
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