A funny thing happened
Near the saloon-bar door
As I was minding my own business
En-Route to division four
A raven-headed beauty
Took my hand and lead me silently
To the snug bar where she sat us down and passionately kissed me
In my ear she whispered
Whilst stroking my sunken cheeks
“Do you come here often like?
Because I’m in here most weeks”
My heart raced, my eyes glazed
This beautiful siren was half my age
With sweating palms
And glowing red ears
My stilted reply
“About once every fifteen to twenty years”.
Then the horror struck that just right now
Like our strikers with their cow’s arse banjo
I’ve lost my patter, by spark, my luck
My God I’ve lost my mojo!!
I walked the lonely streets of Rochdale
In search of my self-confidence
But firing blanks
And misplaced words
Had me heading for The Conference.
In every dingy pub I sat
On every gloomy station
A cloud of black was overhead
Like the threat of administration.
I’ll never get another chance
There’s no creativity, there’s no romance
Its hoof and hope for an occasional grope
When you’re living in fear
And surviving on hope.
But on a sultry night outside Gigg Lane
I caught a brief glimpse of my old flame
I strode across the packed car park
Like Martin O’ Connor on his way to the bar
“Hello pet do you remember me?
If it’s in the stars, it’s meant to be”
She glanced upon my furrowed brow
As I struggled to remember what to do now
And then she looked me in the eye
I was so transfixed I nearly dropped my pie
“You’re right” she gasped “it’s meant to be
Now just take me home….
….to division three.”