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Tea Lady

Alan McKean

Wednesday, July 28th, 2004

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Half past ten,
And you hear the magic the magic sound
Of Dorothy and her trolley,
As she makes her daily morning journey
The full length of the West Stand.
Five days a week (Not match days – different Dorothy)
She trundles that corridor.
She knew you all,
New or old
With, or without milk and sugar,
What biscuits you liked,
Your family.
Been at the stadium,
Old and new,
For umpteen years.
An absolute treasure.
She also knew where the skeletons were buried!
Approaching eighty, with the mind of a thirty year old.
Brought a photo in once of her in her early thirties,
Hell’s teeth – what a stunner!!
She could teach today’s teenagers a thing or two.
Sadly, time and joints need to move on.
She has “to be let go”
It hurts us all in different way,
She’s our Dorothy – always there with your morning brew,
And a bit of gossip,
Now being replaced by a machine.
Quicker, cheaper, more efficient – maybe
But it’s not Dorothy,
The last of a dying breed.
Been with the club for about two hundred years,
Washed the kit, brewed the tea, wiped the players backsides.
Time to retire old lass.
You may not be there at half past ten,
But you’ll stay in our hearts for a long time.
One of Bolton’s finest

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Tara lass

© Alan McKean July 2004

Notes

For Dorothy – a gradely lass, much missed

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/tea-lady/