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Called Off

Alan McKean

Tuesday, January 11th, 2005

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Bloody wet in Burnley
It falls down thick and fast
It fills the gutters
Fills the drains
No football game gets past.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 They have webbed feet in Burnley
They need them where they are
On t’side o’t’ moors
Halfway up th’ill
You need a boat, not car.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 FA Cup this time of year,
You must be raving mad
It rains, it snows,
It’s bloody cold
You’ll need to swim, my lad.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 When next you play at Burnley’s ground
About this time of year
Don’t take your boots,
Don’t take a ball,
Just take a raincoat, dear.

© Alan McKean January 2005

Notes

Parry will know just how wet it gets up there.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/called-off/