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She strode off toward the tube station quickly
Leaving him there on his tod*
It weren’t what he had planned for a day out in the city
The poor heart-broken miserable sod.
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Stared out sadly across the lake,
Lit a fag up as Big Ben struck two
Watched the ducks paddling, then quickly off raced
To meet up “Down The Lane” with his crew as you do*.
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They would often take in a Spurs match together
Travelling both home and away
Stood next to her in some ground was a memory he’d treasure
He would tell her when they were back on the train.
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His mates have been bleeding well blinding,
In helping him cope with his pain
While a warm soothing Bovril one often finds
Helps ease the hurt, so the mind can stay on the game.
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Sunday mornings feel suddenly different again
Without her on the bus by his side
An oyster travel card romance, a walk in the rain
Or McDonalds sharing a big Mac n chips (Fries?).
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Mum indoors, seems more put out than he does
Their fledgling romance has now ceased
As was proved by the Saturday night
Harry Kane scored that hat trick, as an all sea Arsenal* were beat.
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She rushed in to the street, dressed in overalls and scarf
Shouting to anyone who’d listen; (as a mum who was fond of a row).
“Ditching me son? She must be avin a right bleedin laugh
That’ll teach her to Jump Ship (and for a Gooner to boot)?
Oi presh. Call her up and ask her;
Who’s the best team in North London now?*