Calling all the Angels
beckoning them down
asking them to fly to you
worried by your frown
wrap their wings around you
like your mother holding tight
love amongst the grief of loss
you dwell in Angel's sight

Grace Slick get over here
something seems a little queer
you know that rabbit in your song
well something has gone really wrong
seems to have spread to other kinds
or is it just inside my mind
but in the corner of my eye
a big white squirrel passing by
water with a tainted source
turned the poor thing white of course
oh well it could be worse I think
at least the squirrel wasn't pink
keep an eye on where they are
breeding spreading wide and far
then again how very grand
if  squirrels white come to Scotland