Fish - Lucky

He met the world as a Dalkeith boy,
raised from a shaft at Monktonhall
In a well oiled cage,
That locked away his dreams,
An '85 veteran face from the gallery,
A ghost from the civil war in the family
He stood his ground on the picketline
'Til all that he was left with
Were his father's cough
And his mother's eyes
That would hold a tear
For the very first time
When the government took his job away.
Now fist in hand he'll stand in line
Declare his name and mark his time
To some the only proof that they're alive