On Not Wearing Blue & The Colour Bar
¶ 1
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it’s so strange when it’s full yet I’m sadly alone
in a pub where one’s team has dramatically grown
and it’s usually worse when your side are at home
I’m outnumbered and bad-vibed for whisp’ring “well-done”
for comfort I twiddle and glance at my phone
or wave to someone I pretend to have known
you’d sure think by now that the fan-base had grown
but it’s not – there’s just me on my own
and whoever it is well it’s always the same
in the sun in the snow in the wind or the rain
be it Liverpool Man U or Gooners again
it’s a big sea of red here whoever we’re playin’
and you’re always forgiven as long as you lose
but you’re mad to wear blue in this place
¶ 2
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alone in the pub so alone in the pub
tell why I’m alone in a really full pub
I know all these guys but I’m not in the club
I’m a humble reserve an outsider a sub
¶ 3
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alone in a throng where you never last long
and the last thing you do is to burst into song
and it doesn’t take much for the night to go wrong
you gotta keep quiet and you gotta stay strong
maybe clap in your pockets when goals come along
unless you’re a fan of abuse –
I’ve sat there in Hackney as quiet as you please
surrounded by Arsenal shirts down on my knees
then I’ve sat with a niece under trees overseas
and I’ve done it in Turkey, in Spain and Greece
outnumbered in Africa and the Far East
I’ve done it in Bath and in Hull and in Leeds
but wherever you go you just don’t get no peace
cos they’re huge with this massive fan base –
they’re the ones with the followings over the world
in pubs in Khartoum there are flags there unfurled
in Austrian cafes Peruvian clubs
way out in the bush or in little Welsh pubs
in Trenchtown and Trinidad home of the dubs
in a hut that gets Sky in a desert with grubs
never mention your team I implore –
cos it’s fine for a while they might joke they might smile
but that’s when you pray you don’t turn on the style
or you’ll dread going home down some darkly lit mile
it’s like Millwall away years ago –
for I’ve sat in some bar down in San Francisco
at six in the morning with lights way down low
with eggs over easy and coffe t’ go
but it don’t make no difference wherever you go
you still don’t wear blue in the place –
for it’s quite un-celestial highly terrestrial
and I’d never shout out never try to impress y’all
it’s un-nerving appalling and quite territorial
the emotions are mixed if your team ever score at all
if they do then I jump like a jack in a box
while they glare at you there like you’ve got chicken-pox
and you meekly sit down til the swearing has stopped
and look for some hole to just crawl in –
you fear guns or a knife and you treasure your life
but there’s no other pub close for live games at night
and oh what reaction when things don’t go right
you would think that the whole place was theirs –
now I rate their glory I ‘ve seen it for years
I’ve seen us so humbled and driven to tears
and long gone are their relegation- type fears
just trophies and plaudits galore..
but what gets my goat is the way that they gloat
when a new name appears to take charge of the boat
for it’s like I’ve got ‘leper’ emblazed on my coat
how they’d love to just grab me right here by the throat
and the mention of Chelsea don’t hit the right note
I’m just trying to get lost in this crowd –
¶ 4
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and it’s still going on and it’s always the same
in the sun in the snow or the wind and the rain
be it Liverpool Man U or Gooners again
there’s a big sea of red here whoever we’re playin’
and you’re always forgiven as long as you lose
but you’re mad to wear blue in this place
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