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Scene 3

The curtain rises on a prison [unclear: call]. The stage is quite bare except for a form at right of centre on which two despondent figures [unclear: croucn], faces cupped in hands. A poster back centre shows a prison window.

Jessie Dirk:

Funny, isn't it?

Bob:

Funny!

J. D.:

The way we've come together.

Bob:

Not exactly romantic, huh?

J.D.:

Of course, I'm/very practical woman, and that doesn't worry me. It's enough to me that we're both [unclear: able] to [unclear: eaen] other, that we have a common aim.

Bob:

Yes. Of course I'd heard about you lots of times. Jessie Dirk, The Glasgow Harridan. Isn't that what the police called you?

J.D.:

Among other things.

Bob:

Seem to have heard about you eversince I remember.

J.D.:

Ave, I have been in the movement a long time now.

Bob:

(Coming to her) Beloved Bolshie.

T.D.

(Melting) Sweet Radical.

(They kiss, they part and Jessie sings....)

J.D.:

I threw a brick
At Metternick
And tried to wreck the Nahlin
In other days
I fanned the blaze
And swept the Steppes
With Stalin.
What good has it done me?
The very jailers shun me.
Stalin's in clever,
And [unclear: me] I'm in clink.

Bob:

The window is no window
And the door is not allowed.
The prison bread
Is dead [unclear: sea]-fruit
My garments just a shroud.
What good has it done me?
Stalin's in clover
And here I'm in clink.

Both:

O vulgar, base and come adrift,
O world we do not see,
The things depraved,
We neither crave,
Is good society.

J.D.:

The jailer is a sadist
And the food is sadder still
The regulation candy
Is a sugar coated pill.

page break Bob:

Savage is no savage
And Nash is never here,
And the noble works of Labour
Have begun to disappear.

Both:

O vulgar, base and come adrift
O world we do not see
We do not miss its glitter
And its crass vulgarity.

J.D.:

Milton is no poet
But a potent germicide
And Keats is less than Keatings
And Shelley's hands are tied.

Bob:

The things I've done for Lenin
And the time I've [unclear: n] Marx!!

J.D.:

The things I've done for Trotsky
In the less frequented parks!!!

Bob:

All I can offer
Is freedom of thought
Occasional ardours
And amorous sport.

J.D.:

I come from Glasgow
And don't ask for much
But I know me chances
And this one I clutch.

Both:

O vulgar, base and come adrift
A world we do not see
We'll wed and bed in prison
And God rot the bourgeoisie.

Curtain.

Time Marches On.

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