A Litttle pub in Scotland.

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 I returned up north of the border,
to end up my football career
then like many a player of that era,
I became a publican serving up beer.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Nows many a night up in Scotland,
when the door of the pub I will close
I’ll feel a wee sentimental,
And I’ll keep in the punters I know

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 I’ll pour me a wee glass of whiskey
and let my mind go a wandering back
and I’ll reminisce to the after- hours customers
about my days in the Palace attack.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 I’ll tell of my goals v United,
and how I was signed as a youth from East Fife,
and the discos and clubs of South London,
where I had the best times of my life.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 And while I feel a wee tear on my cheekbone
as my mind wanders back forty years,
I’ll wish I was back in South London,
not in Lanarkshire serving up beers.



Nowadays players retire to Spain or become golf addicts. Money’s not a prob for them. Back in the day unless a player stayed in the game their was a good chance that in retirement he was going to run a boozer or manage a newsagents.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/a-litttle-pub-in-scotland/