She told him she was leaving him
With six minutes left on clock
Then disappeared upstairs to pack her things
While he pensively took stock.
“Affairs of the heart are fraught” he thought
“What will Moysey do
Should he chuck another striker on
Or just stick with four, four two?”
She came down to the living room
All mascara stains and angst
Then gave her poignant parting words of doom
To the sofa bound young Manc:
“If you think I’ll share my dreams with you
And eleven struggling blokes who spit
You really haven’t got a flaming clue
I’m going back to me mums, that’s it”
“Chuck” he said “Yer eyes are red
From the tears that you have cried
I really was listening to what you said
But their last goal was just off-side.
The way I’ve been treating you lately
Is bang out of order I’ll agree
But can’t we talk about this after the game
We’re getting steam-rollered by City”
A door slams shut and Pizza-hut
Is where he now dines alone
Nights of watching Sky or getting off his nut
Are sadly all there is at home.
So should “er indoors” gets jealous and bored
Of remote controlled Man Yoo
Too right she’ll chugger off back to her mums
I would as well…wouldn’t you?