Love and Football
“Does my bum look big in this one?”
“Oh no, honey, you look gorgeous!”
“Why on earth did they bring in this one?
Were he good, they wouldn’t have sold! Obnoxious!”
The man who lies to the wife at every turn,
With his Club seems to be only most righteous.
Football teams too need to be reassured of their beauty,
Next time you visit the stadium, do that duty.
“Darling, I’m chuffed to bits that I’m pregnant!”
“But sweetie, we are both on unemployment benefits!”
“This Club is rotting and stagnant,
Bring in some fresh blood, despite the deficits.”
The man who with personal finance is unrepentant,
Seems grossly irresponsible with another’s receipts.
Consider in general the world’s monetary grievances,
Next time you advise the Club on its finances.
“You rogue, how dare you cheat on me?”
(The man is temporarily rendered mute.)
“Before renewing your contract, phone me.
My client is on incredible terms, you can follow suit.”
The man who will down the street con me
And blame me for taking the wrong route,
Introspect and reflect, first and foremost, at you,
Next time you lament the lack of virtue.
“…till death do us apart.” “I do.”
Only to queue up at the Civil Court a year later.
“This Club is such a sick disgrace now,
Perhaps it’s time to be that Club’s supporter.”
The man loathe to his insecurity show,
Seeks strength in a victor’s perceived power.
Love and support, these days, seem like being tanned,
Vanishing the next time glory’s glow be absent.
“I love you and want to be with you all my life.”
‘Oh no, not again; she is such a fool.’
To support the same Club and love the same wife,
To this generation, in its jargon, seems rather uncool.
The unwavering men with Clubs in perennial strife,
Oh, don’t be fooled by them or the neutral-
Lasting marriages almost always involve secret dalliances,
Next time enquire them about their secret Top Four alliances.
“If only I could know what is love!”
You can never know love, only regret later.
Mercenaries nor fickle fans ever to top a Club drove.
Love is in spite of everything, always being there;
A journey through Hell to the Heavens above,
With the destination always seeming still further.
So, I hope to meet my lady still sooner,
Next time, just as I hope to be born a Gooner.
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