Oh, dear, what can the matter be
Three old ladies locked in the lavatory
They were there from Monday to Saturday
Nobody knew they were there

The first old lady was Elizabeth Porter
Well known as the deacon of Dorchester’s daughter.
She was on her way home when her Epsom salts caught her
And nobody knew she was there.


The second one’s name was Elizabeth Pomphrey
She went in and made herself comfy
Then she said: “Girls, I can’t get my bum free.”
And nobody knew she was there


The last one’s name was Elizabeth Carter
She was known as a world renowned farter
She went in and played a sonata
And nobody knew she was there.

Ok, so this a gents' rather than a ladies', but you get my drift (and you'll have that song playing round and round in your head for the rest of the day).

It's 1977, and Glasgow was busy demolishing another one of its Victorian/Edwardian public conveniences, in this case the one at the south end of the Victoria Bridge, in the Gorbals.

The lavvies, with their big wooden cubicles, penny-operated door locks (hence, 'spend a penny'), their shining but sometimes smelly ceramic sanitary ware (usually by Shanks of Barrhead), and the wee man/woman in overalls with bucket and mop, were once a familiar feature on many city streets.

Their disappearance caused a proper public stink, left many folk bursting, and gave Glasgow a bad case of the Subterranean Homesick Blues (browns)!

Walking about the town, I often wonder if the facilities, rather than being filled in, were simply tarmacced over, and that, perhaps, those three old ladies are all still down there...