They built the floors up long ago
To fit new cables there
(When it was laid, they couldn't know
They'd need this extra layer).

I guess they didn't think it through;
They trapped the windows shut -
And blinds inside the windows, too,
All stuck inside a rut.

The view of Arthur's Seat was hid,
The sun forever barred;
To undo what the builders did
Was felt to be too hard.

So by and by a decade passed
With blinds still fixed in place.
This industry is never fast:
It moves at glacial pace.

Yet even in insurance terms,
Those blinds were slow to shift.
They've seen the deaths of many firms,
Seen markets ebb and drift.

Six hundred million people died,
A billion more were born:
While here the blinds stayed, stuck inside,
Four thousand new days dawned.

But now at last the Blind Man's due
To set the blinds here free;
Do anything he has to do
To help us all to see:

To look upon the world outside,
The joys that it might hold;
The gorse and trees and mountainside
Beyond this goldfish bowl.

   * * *

He fixed the blinds! They're free to move!
That doesn't mean they do;
The boss, it seems, would not approve,
For someone might see through.

A true and faithful account of the tragedy of Scottish Widows' Dalkeith Road window blinds.
More Scottish Widows poems here and here.

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