sang the tune I saw above the sink tonight.
Overhead lights had gone out in the loo.
Candles were lit, not one, but yes: two.The most romantic wee that ever I had,
No electricity? Ah, that just ain’t so bad.
There was a ginger cat that pondered the halls,
While many second hand books slid down the walls.Nothing was right, so much was wrong,
That cat did bring with it a curious pong.
“Tear it down, the place it be trouble”,
Whipped an old git in a bit of a muddle.
It’s all part of the charm, too often quite lost,
Taken over by new stuff all marbled and glossed.
Few things retain character in this sparkling city,
Please don’t be so quick to class something “shitty”.
It’s a gallery and theatre, it be the culture we need.
To tickle one’s fancy and let the mind out to feed.
All you need to see is that gathering smile.
Even that cat’s tail, it’s grinning with guile.
The magic begins right here in this crooked old place.
Where the rooms are filled with such a peculiar taste.
No classy looks here, nor a place for a slick trend setter.
Oh, do let Sydney grow old. The sooner, the better!