The Prodigal Son

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 There’s that man we knew so well,
Large head, besuited body.
But what’s his name, pray can you tell?
My God, I think its Roddy.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 While at Carlisle, he told the world
Our league was somewhat shoddy.
His fortunes since, have dipped and swirled,
And now he’s back, is Roddy.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 He can’t find a position
From St Albans to Kirkcaldy,
But English fans’ derision
Merely bounces back off Roddy.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 England’s now a barren land,
Like some long dried-up wadi.
And still we cannot understand
How things went wrong for Roddy.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 The sergeant-major’s attitude,
Belittling some poor squaddie,
Arrogant and very rude –
Tactically, that’s Roddy.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 He’s swapping jokes with Noel King,
No longer on his toddy.
Listen to the caged bird sing!
But what’s in it for Roddy?

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 Stan and Ollie, Little, Large,
As Big Ears was to Noddy,
Ken and Deirdre, Harold, Marge,
That’s Noel King and Roddy.



Roddy Collins, back from Carlisle, was a guest commentator on TV3 on Monday night. Failure doesn’t seem to have bestowed him with any humility.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/the-prodigal-son/