Parsons, strathspeys and rough justice
Well strike me pink, I’d sooner drink With a cove sent up for arson, Than a rain-beseechin’, preachin’, teachin’ Cranky bloody parson. The old rhyme’s banging through my head like a tattoo as I try to concentrate on the tune at hand, an elegant strathspey the parson beside me is pumping out on his squeezebox […]
