To George, with love
¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 I cried for you last night
¶ 2
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At this anniversary time, your loss is heightened
And I wept again
As your father choked back the tears, when prefacing the closing credits:
“I’d love to see him come running in through that door”.
Amen to that.
¶ 3
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There was no dignity in your decline
And for many
You were a sober reminder
Of which way not to turn
¶ 4
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But it was your turns out on the pitch
That mesmerised
And that we all tried to memorise
For it didn’t matter which team we supported –
We all wanted to be Pelé or Bestie
No-one else
Not really …
Local heroes of course …
But when it came to the big moment
The time to really impress
There’d be 10 Georgie Bests
And another wannabe, stuck complainingly in a keepers jersey
There’d be choppers dumped behind the goal
Guarded by a pile of discarded Parkas
And out on the pitch, in a game of copycat, replicated everywhere –
Studded Stylo boots, twisting and turning
Those were the days –
And you were the epitomé
¶ 5
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It’s obvious how proud your family are
Likewise your native city
With the George Best Belfast City Airport –
But not one aircraft, could take off as quick as you
And not even Concorde
Could drown out the ovations
On any matchday, nor the day of your funeral
As you took that last runway to the sky.
¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Last night I bet we all cried at the memory of you.
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