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Dry your eyes mate

Bob Sproat

Monday, September 27th, 2004

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Hang on a minute it’s not our sad loss,
it’s just the demise of an ex-Derby boss.
He was a “Great” within the game,
but in the street would he know your name.
Of loyalty he spoke with passion
about his friend Peter’s treacherous action.
But for Rams fans the big issue,
was to defect to the Red’s up the A52

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 And when his drinking reached excess,
his body parts were in a mess.
The booze to which he was addicted
made his condition self-inflicted
A transplant which for me and you,
would mean a long time in the queue
Was given him for he “Is Great”
the rest of you will have to wait.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Was he the best? The jury’s hung,
about a man who would take a bung.
Don’t waste your grief or shed a tear,
for a man renowned to love his beer.
He won the lot and had it all,
and liked to p**s it up the wall.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 And now the tributes flow like a river,
but spare a thought for a wasted liver.
Don’t forget who makes them Great
by paying the money across the gate.
So dry your eye’s mate, stop living in the past.
The Greats all die they never last.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/dry-your-eyes-mate/