Nothing Much Suprises Me….Anymore!
¶ 1
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
Like a yacht without a rudder
We’re cast asunder on the waves
Now our manager’s felt the utter disdain
Of a Muscovite blokes traits.
¶ 2
Leave a comment on verse 2 0
Now Henk has gone or so I’m told
I’m totally confused
Shall I go and blow me hard earned dough
On another season ticket, to watch beloved blues?
¶ 3
Leave a comment on verse 3 0
Steve Clarke’s en route to Goodison Park
Or so our grapevine says
Tin tacked by a cash-rich oligarch
Who it has to be said, is rarely seen at any games
¶ 4
Leave a comment on verse 4 0
Said money’s left me bank account
So I’m sort of stuck you see
With a plastic seat down at Stamford Bridge
To sit and watch in anguish, our gaffer-less first team!
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