Who Are Ya?
¶ 1
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I’m at a Czech non-league game
It cost just over a pound
Despite the fact it’s so cheap
There’s dozens outside the ground.
Even more than stood on ‘Jews Hill’
Back at the old Millwall ‘Den’
Apologies for being un-P.C.
It’s just a term we used back then.
It’s a Tuesday Bank Holiday morning
October sun breaking through the mist
Beers drunk by local in the ground
Another tick to my list.
Truth is the game’s not a cracker
More keen endeavour than skill
But it’s still a delight being a ‘hopper’ abroad
Able to sit on open benches and chill.
I’m not one for ‘rules and regulations’
But I hate it if there’s no score
Not for what you’re thinking
I don’t follow groundhopping ‘law’.
It’s just I don’t speak the lingo
Haven’t a scooby what’s being said
A goal will tell me if it’s the home team
Playing in the green or the red.
Seven minutes before half time
The ref points to the spot
A red man slams it into the net
The cheers tell me a lot.
Home team one up on the scoreboard
I now know which team is which
TJ Tatran Bohunice are beating Bzenec
Foreign groundhopping can be such a bitch!
¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Dulwich Poet 28th October 2014
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