Foreword by Nicky James
One summer day In 1965A man slid from a Jag more dead than alive
He was as soft as putty, hard as a rock
What I met was a hairy arsed Jock
He smelt like leather from that green Jaguar car
And stuck to his nose a single white feather
He came out with some words
That I knoooo understand
As he stood there grinning
With a pen in his hand
So I played Rabbie Burns records
To suss out what he said
He was the first Scottish poet that I ever tasted
And the words that he spoke
Were
Ma Heids Wasted
Click to hear the foreword read by Nicky James
