A Tasty Fixture

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The seagulls circling over Plainmoor
are not bothered about the final score,
don’t care we’re not in the Premiership,
they’ve got their eye on a tasty chip.
Three whistles signals the end of the match
to fans but to gulls it means an easy catch.
Like dive bombers they scream out of the sky
to feast on discarded pasty or pie
before the crowd’s even left. What I’ve missed
is – how do they get hold of our fixture list?

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/a-tasty-fixture/