Bitter Blue
¶ 1
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Been on the buildings for thirty odd year ,
moving along the South Coast ,
Folkestone , Dover , Hastings , Eastbourne , Cuckmere
but always a Blue , was my boast .
Ended up in Brighton and met me Missus,
moved out of the caravan and into a flat ,
started to become civilised , doing pub quizzes ,
kissing and cuddling and all of that .
Down on the South Coast , business was booming
for all the fat cats , thanks to Maggie Thatch
but I could see black clouds on the horizon , looming
every time I said ” I’m off to the match …..”
A couple of kids later and it was ” Where you goin’?
Youre not leaving me here looking after these two ….”
So I toed the line , to keep the status quo in ,
became the thing that I dreaded , an armchair Blue .
No more scaling the walls at Goodison Park ,
like against Bolton in the 77 Semi
or using forged tickets with no watermark ,
even hung up my turnstile shutter jemmy .
No more necking ale in Munich
or filling me clogs in Rotterdam ,
or taking the mick out of the Nordic
all Red scarves and haircuts from Wham !
Now me lad’s old enough to follow the cause ,
though he looks and acts like Slim Shady ,
while I’m down here , stuck with her indoors ,
every fortnight he visits ” The Old Lady ” .
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