The local club

Was once the hub

To watch a band

Or chew the cud

 

Legs eleven

Was halftime heaven

No local winner =

Armageddon! 

 

A stranger's feet

Resting at your seat!

His smarmy face

You'd wanna beat! 

 

Oh, the damned consternation!

“That's been my seat since

decimalisation!”

 

Working men blow woodbine hoops

In kipper ties & well worn suits

 

Egg sarnies freely passed around

Auld Freddy makes a farting sound!

 

Dominoes spread across the table

(A beer mat handy, ‘case it's unstable)

 

Winner does a victory lap

Loser's call him a lucky twa.. bugger 

 

Committee men with free pint cheques

End the night with broken necks

 

Wobble home with wife in arm

 

It had a certain kind of charm

 

Camaraderie, banter, clapping hands

Have gone away on changing sands

 

This simple life of belonging & beer

Is all but set to disappear…