The A-Team
¶ 1
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
I’m waiting to splurge some brown sauce
on my piping hot haggis & tattie pie
by the hatch of the refreshment hut at Galabank
when the A-Team theme tune
blares out of the speakers
on the end of the small tidy stand
with the club’s name picked out in black & yellow seats
& the players run out onto the pitch
from the red brick clubhouse,
but there’s no B.A. Barracus in the squad.
¶ 2
Leave a comment on verse 2 0
No Eval Kineaval. No stars & stripes.
A patchwork quilt of St. Andrew’s crosses
hang from the gable end of the bar,
sticky with Tennent’s Lager like honey.
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