The Mercenary’s Creed
¶ 1
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Raise the scarf, kiss the badge – show loyalty to the cause.
This club’s the best, it’s different class. I’m here to win
Trophies, the money don’t matter. But if we start losing
I’m on my way to pastures new; get-out clause invoked.
Thanks to my agent, I’ll rake in the signing-on fees,
Then it’s off to another gullible team – more adoring fans
To lead astray; a desperate manager – his job at stake.
Reliant on my goalscoring skills to save his skin, again.
It’s so easily done, this Premiership lark – jumping
On the gravy train from club to club across the land.
There’s always someone wanting your signature,
Willing to pay the price. And it’s so much better if you’re
Of foriegn name; it makes them think you must be worth
A contract – far sexier than those boring, boorish
English lads from grotty, provincial lower league sides.
I’m not here for the weather, nor the food, nor the culture
So bring on the babes, the fame and the fortune;
And then I’ll be gone – up for grabs to the highest bidder.
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