The Close Season.
¶ 1
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Put your scarf and shirt in mothballs
Put your rattle in the loft
Put your treasured rosette somewhere safe
So it don’t get lost!
¶ 2
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Saturdays are coming
Where nothings going on
No cheering, jeering, singing
A life bereft of song?
¶ 3
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I think I’ll have a lie in
Catch up on some sleep
Dream about the season just gone
It was fantastique!!!
¶ 4
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What am I gonna do with meself
Now the close season is here?
Sit inside the betting shop
Or swig on pints of beer?
¶ 5
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As I’m not a drinker
Although I like a bet
All afternoon in a smoky bookies
Is not for me just yet!
¶ 6
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There’s no football in the papers
Cricket’s everywhere
A game for toffs and Yorkshiremen
All whites and brylcreemed hair!
¶ 7
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Three-o-clock will just be wierd
Each and every week
Maybe I’ll take a holiday
To watch football out in Greece?
¶ 8
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Twenty to five
Will be so strange
Without James Alexander Gordon
No football scores
Away wins or draws
My life will just be boredom!!!
¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 peace.
20
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