Our lawn ain’t seen a mower blade
Since that fatefull Moscow night
And the house could do with a coat of paint
In royal blue and white?
Our winders need a cleaning
The motor needs a splosh
And that gaping hole in the kitchen ceiling
Ain’t been looked at since we lost.
As next Saturday approaches
All the above will have to wait
As I’m busy checking out times of coaches
To newly promoted teams away.
The quare one’s gone on holiday
Leaving me with the dog and kids
I could have gone, with her, but my priorities
Lie, welcoming Big Phil to Stamford Bridge.
Am I looking forward to the coming season?
After a balmy summer without any sun
I am indeed, and me one sole valid reason
Is …. the count down to ecstasy’s begun!