The Fans
¶ 1
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In every ground throughout the land
in every area, every stand
sit so many different fans
from plain old James to fancy Dans.
¶ 2
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First the dedicated type;
you’ll never hear him moan or gripe,
never hear him bellyache
or even swear for ***** sake.
¶ 3
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He’s been going for thirty years
through rain and shine and sweat and tears.
His football club is in his blood
will never ever give it up.
¶ 4
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Then there’s the season ticket holder
middle-aged or maybe older;
he’s very protective of his place
take his seat – he’ll slap your face.
¶ 5
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Next there’s Mr Once a Season
more than once amounts to treason.
Arrives for kick-off at five to three
cannot quite contain his glee.
¶ 6
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Then proceeds to criticise:
“just what is going on you guys?
No wonder I come just once a year;
in any case it’s far too dear.”
¶ 7
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Look around you, spot the yob,
could be Lennie, could be Bob.
He’s already dressed for action
mobile phone and action slacks on.
¶ 8
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Conversation with his mates:
“Let’s meet up outside the gates.
I’m up for some rough and tumble,
come on lads, let’s have a rumble.”
¶ 9
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Towards the front’s the OAP,
tartan rug across his knee.
Recalls the great teams with a sigh,
they caused him tears, they made him cry.
¶ 10
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Female fan is to my right,
has only lately seen the light.
Used to go to shopping malls,
now spends Saturdays with her pals.
¶ 11
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Seventies throwback’s next in line,
in sheepskin coat he looks just fine.
Keegan perm, face quite spotty
All his mates call him Motty!
¶ 12
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Lastly there’s the young supporter,
someone’s son or someone’s daughter.
If what you want is lots of laughter
he’ll provide just what you’re after.
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