Its Friday afternoon in a pub in Glasgow.
The bar is heaving, and the walls are wet.
There’s music playing and people singing.
I’m rather nervous and I’m now in a sweat.

There’s a karaoke session in full swing.
Sausage rolls and butties are on the bar.
Its cash only, the sign says, no cards at all.
We’ve found ourselves a Glasgow bazaar!

‘Come on up wee Maureen, it’s your turn now’
Said Francine the owner of the karaoke machine.
‘Give us a good’un and get us to sing with yah.’
So Maureen sang her song like a disco queen.

‘Thanks Mo, that was just brilliant - cheers’
‘Who’s next on the list? A newcomer, Paul.’
‘I love this song from that film with Prince.’
‘Purple Rain, that’s the one. Don’t we all?’

‘You nailed it Paul. Yah had us all with yah.’
‘Yah can come back again anytime my friend.’
The applause was deafening, and Paul beamed.
‘With that voice you’ll end up in the West End.’

‘We’ve got a duet wanting to perform next.’
‘A mother and daughter, Sheila and Yvonne.’
‘They’re singing, Baby It’s Cold Outside.’
‘Come on girls, we’re ready, bring it on.’

‘Who’s is this lager on the karaoke machine?’
‘I’m taking a break now. It’s the bingo shortly.’
‘I’ll be back so don’t head home too early.’
Francine’s clad in denim and just a little portly.

We are visitors to this realm of commotion.
Where normality for a while is put on hold.
What an amazing sight we’ve witnessed.
Wonderful, unadulterated fun; pure gold.