Invasion Of The Rumourmongers
¶ 1
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
They’ve got me on their nipple of lies
the drip fed deceit of the billboard’s surprise
coming home from work every night in the dark
just a taster…
one line…
dot dot dot question mark
like
WILL AXE FALL…?
where?
on the out of sorts striker
the goalkeeping clanger
the dodgy defender
those caught on a bender.
¶ 2
Leave a comment on verse 2 0
They don’t even pay to get in for Christ’s sake
just nudge nudge wink wink and they’re at it again
with;
the manager’s leaving
the youth team are teething
the captain’s got flu
and he’s talking to Crewe.
¶ 3
Leave a comment on verse 3 0
I get enough stress watching my shower play
so it all got too much on deadline day.
¶ 4
Leave a comment on verse 4 0
I gathered some basic provisions and fled
to a countryside chalet (well more of a shed).
It was styled as a two berth norweigan dormer
I was in isolation, ’til I looked in the corner.
A tele,
its round
it’s got a knob for the sound
but then I dicovered the remote control.
TELETEXT!
There was, latest news round up’s
top scorers and phone votes
sport box and flash backs
I watched a whole game on Ceefax
and it was’nt even my team
just Hednesford Town versus Forest Green.
¶ 5
Leave a comment on verse 5 0
So my plea to the chip paper peddlers
is don’t toy with the souls of the paying supporters,
we all love the game
show some empathy too
yes you Martin Swain this verse is for you.
Comments
0 Comments on the whole Poem
Create an account to leave a comment on the whole Poem
0 Comments on verse 1
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 1
0 Comments on verse 2
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 2
0 Comments on verse 3
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 3
0 Comments on verse 4
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 4
0 Comments on verse 5
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 5