A Poem

BlueMoonraker

Well-Known Member
Joined
2 Aug 2009
Messages
592
Location
M24
After the disgraceful behaviour of a so-called professional footballer earlier this month, I penned the following poem. No points for guessing who the subject is.
Please feel free to offer any 'constructive criticism' or positive comments. If you think it's shite, just read another thread!
Here we go:

On the pitch he can do it - "no question aboot thart".
Doubts persist though about his moral code
I see behaviour that doesn't become a decent human being
Off the pitch - on the prowl. Care-homes and geriatric wards house his prey
Under-carriage primed for action
Surely this monster should have been culled at the earliest opportunity?

The means justify the end in his warped mind
Whether fair or foul - he must prevail
A dwindling crowd bellow his name in delight
Though a change of uniform would end the adoration

The 'love' would turn to hate in one fell swoop
His behaviour would be seen for what it is
A thug, a beast, a monster he's become
Though he's what he always was - only now the shirt is new

Hail the new hero for another baying crowd
Enter the arena and smother your new crest with slobber

Instant hero - just add adulation (and money)
Stretford ends the fickle affair with the Stretford End
 
It doesn't rhyme!

Here, i will show you......


The darkness draweth in over croxteth tonight
A baldy young scouser stalks in the shadows out of sight
He seeks an abode of such ill repute
A silver haired vixen to service for loot
The older the better even a bed wetter
stannah stair lifted waiting on the queen's letter
Sign for city, and your dead, all the m.i.b's ranted
But he just wanted more dosh, to get his pubes replanted
A media darling he can never do wrongly
He was even forgiven for swearing on t.v
So after the fact, when all is said and done
I loved his reaction to the pounding six one!
 
Well, you bunch of heathens and Philistines. Only three people have taken the time to comment on this effort and not one you has had a good look at it. Shame on you!

Glen, I liked your poem (a bit).
 

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