From the Pools to a Sea of Debt

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Once it was,
Sitting by the fireside,
Specs on the end of the nose,
Pencil poised,
Glancing at the form guide,
X’s carefully marked,
A hopeful moment,
In a humdrum week,
A studied departure
From the usual thrift.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Now it is
Cheap booze and bookies
On every loudmouth street;
Drinking all through the night,
Betting all the long day,
An addictive money-go-round,
Until the buck stops
With some sort of parasite.
Ragged Trousered Philanthropy,
From the old working class
To New Labour.



Written on the way to Cornwall after reading Tristram Hunt’s feature in the Guardian on New Labour’s legacy and remembering me dear old dad and his mates doing the pools.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/from-the-pools-to-a-sea-of-debt/