Put a Leonard Cohen record on
To highlight my despair
Telephoned The Samaritans
Though there weren’t nobody there.
The budgie’s swing has ceased to sway
My mood has fouled his game
As I’m expecting this St Valentines Day
To be on par with Bugsy’s pain.*
Twenty roses from the florists
Which arrived first thing this morn
Could be dying, though if I’m honest
I don’t care – now er indoors is gone?
Snapshots from The Nou Camp
Shine a light on brighter days
Likewise Munich when we overcame
Massive odds to win the game.
Booked a week-end down the seaside
To take in Brighton’s bracing air
Could have seen The Seagulls, rode the rides
Though that’s sunk now, I don’t care.
I try to grasp how she’s feeling
Straight up I really do
Until: “Them bleeding Seagulls do me head in”
That is, then I’m lost without a clue.
I’m told that I’ve a feminine side
By my fairer sex close friends
Yet alone, with romance on the slide
Where Leapy’s ‘Little Arrows’ then?*
I know a woman need some breathing space
Room to spend time with her friends
Down The Old Kent Road, for mash and eels sounds great
But……does she have to go down The Den?