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The Close Season
Ode to Pete
Peter Heatherston fair steered up the quines, "Stay at home to ensure that Hubby dines". Barefit, pregnant and in the kitchen, nae doubt, And if they step out o' line, jist slap 'em about.
An old fashioned opinion for this enlightened day, But should they be allowed on the field of play? There have been women in football for many years, And maybe that the true root of his fears. From boardrooms to the corridors of power, Perhaps he forsees them takin' ower.
Morag is better than many of her peers, But i believe it could all end up in tears. Imagine just how irrational it could be, If she were suffering from the dreaded PMT!
I always believed referees were of a kind, Instantly able to make up their mind. That's where ladies let themselves down, As can be witnessed in any High Street, in any town. Just buying a frock needs a quorum and discussion, It takes less time to jail a dissident Russian.
So Peter next time you open your mouth, REMEMBER! you may have to manage QUEEN of the South
A poem by Dougie Duncan that has many relevant features to what goes on after a Broch home game!
The same big decision after every game, In by the pub or head straight hame ? The magnetic draw of your favourite bar, Maybe that's why you didna take the car!
Just a swift visit to your welcoming Inn, With all the worthies esconsed therein. The usual congregation of all well kent faces, Standing or sitting in the usual places.
The post mortem begins "Fa's really to blame" "Oor one legged, blind goalie, bit ats really a shame" "The full backs did weel, but yon big centre half" "It's a mystery t'me that he wisna sent aff" "The midfield too sma" on that we agree, Especially if you consider that the tallest's only 5ft 3. "The winger to slow, nae pace at a" "An the centre looks feart o the ba" "I thought the ref wis gie poor the day" "An the nearside linesman wis nivver up we play".
At's nae the Lottery, it canna be that late, The next time you look its quarter past eight. An there in the door is the love of your life, So why can ye cut the atmosphere wi a knife.
"Ers nae coal in the hoose, an the bairns are freezin, An your sitting here getting royally bleezing. My folks were right, am gaun hame to my Mam, I'll be back the morn for ma claes n' the pram"
You prepare your defence as you hear the door slam, But a that comes oot is "fa's needing a dram" "Sheel be aright, we'l sit doon an spik, Bit I dinna think I'll be at the game next wik".
Please click on the link below to view the Tartan Army childrens charity poster: