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The Boss

Desmond Choot

Friday, November 18th, 2005

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 “Tramps like us, baby we were born to run”

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 And so I ran
From box to box
Up pitch and down
Lengthways
Widthways (touch to touch)
Sideways (crab like)
Raiding (grab like)
Then parading
Whenever victory, came our way

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 But I preferred it, this servitude
Couldn’t have coped, with the repsonsibility, that faced the Boss
Tramping up and down the line
Dishing out orders, (like the soup kitchens we too often frequent)
Or the frustrations, he experienced
As his instructions, either went unheeded
Or lack of ability, impeded, compliance

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Taking the level up a notch, or six or so
Could you ever imagine Roy Keane
Having the aptitude to be a manager?

© Des T Choot, 18/11/2005

Notes

The day started off (along with the trigger for the poem) with the re-released ‘Born To Run’ by Bruce Springsteen, blaring.
Then the mid-day bombshell of Roy Keane leaving Manchester United ‘by mutual consent’ (providing the poem wrap up)

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-boss/