Molly Be Bonny slithers into existence with a suave hammered dulcimer glissando, then crashes into an eerie, tense riff whose tone dances along a tightrope of thin mixing, anticipating the presence of something wide and heavy that will fill the gap...

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And there is absolutely no payoff for this intriguing beginning.

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Because for the umpteenth time, Cliff Martin writes about being horny. In G.

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​His garish references to intercourse and even less disguised here than usual, to the delight of secondary school students everywhere. At least the raunchy, snarling "chorus" (or bridge?) provides them a few briefs seconds to let out all their angst, as guitar, drums, and singer wail at the prospect of being with their carnal mark.

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Lyrics aside, I think ample and due credit must be given to Gordon Waller, whose production probably saved this track from the scrap heap. The main guitar occupies such a unique place in the mix that not only draws the listeners attention to it while it leads the song, but also - as mentioned before - creates a feeling of anticipation that something is going to fill in the space it leaves.

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And the actual sound! Martin's layered octaves are quite the effective and appropriate touch for a song that's so...low-down. I feel like the air is thick with sweat and cologne just listening to it. As for the chorus breakdowns...well, no song is perfect. Waller's hands were really tied there.

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The lyrics of the choral breaks are such a departure from the established theme of the song that I doubt they intentionally say anything of depth; they lack the subtlety that implies deeper implication or symbolism.​ The choral breaks themselves are quite striking, and would be intriguing (and even pleasant) if they weren't so jarring. Like a perfectly uneaten apple lying in a rubbish bin.

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I suppose I could credit Martin for attempting something so...original...like his bandmates (and indeed, the entire direction of pop music), but frankly, it comes across as desperate. It was well-known around the time of the band's demise that for various reasons, Martin had begun to "phone it in", possibly with the anticipation of going solo after the inevitable breakup of the band.

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Now we will never know.

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Considering how Martin's actually-good pieces on Fehr Beach are just him and his instruments - and no genre- or studio-busting gimmickry - I think it's safe to say that beyond that small window of artistry, he had no idea what he was doing. Or worse, had no passion for finding out.

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★★☆☆☆