John Fredrick Douglas (1877 – 1959)
¶ 1
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Stole a march to the gable fences,
like the days I stood on those tired boxes,
Saw matches through mended fences,
IHad a few bikeshed romances,
Grabbed a girl and gave her kisses,
Laughed at the other team’s misses,
Met a friend on Anfield road,
Met a pal who scored a goal,
Got drunk and sang my way home,
Felt sad and put them in poems,
Jigged and danced and smoked my pipe,
I’m 83 and I’ve lived a life,
of Anfield,
tis like a son,
I saw born,
and who’ll carry on,
even when I’m gone.
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