Connect in the back of the net

My boss sent me an E-mail
I haven’t answered yet.
I’m sure it was important,
As important as they get.

My boss will not be happy,
He’ll foam, he’ll fume and
glower,
But I’ve a ticket for the
match
That kicks off in an hour.

“You ought to do some
shopping,”
Calls out my irate wife,
“There’s nothing left for
us to eat,
No bread, no cheese, no
rice.

We need some fruit, we
need some veg,
Some eggs, some milk,
some flour,
But I’ve a ticket for the
match
That kicks off in an hour.

I glance at the newspaper,
It’s full of tales of woe:
War in Iraq, knife-attacks,
Share prices sinking low.

I know we should protest
and do
Whatever’s in my power,
But I’ve a ticket for the
match
That kicks off in an hour.

I’m out the house and in
the street,
I’m rushing to the ground,
My pulse-rate’s shifted up
a gear,
My heart’s begun to pound.

Looks like a storm’s about
to break,
Overhead thick, dark clouds
lower,
Still, I’ve a ticket for the
match
That kicks off in an hour.

A streetwalker waylays me
And gives me the glad eye.
Says: “Come up to my
boudoir, pal,
I’ll show you a real good
time.”

Now, the prospect’s quite
inviting,
She’s pretty as a flower,
But I’d much rather see the
match
That kicks off in an hour.

At last I’m at the stadium,
I’m all set to go in,
Then, the steward checks
my ticket,
Then informs me with a
grin…

“I’m sorry, mate, you’re
somewhat late,
Perhaps your watch is
slow,
This match you bought a
ticket for
Kicked off an hour ago!”

 

Written by Darryl Ashton 

Follow Darryl on Twitter @AlfGarnettJnr

Check out more of his brilliant work at his Google+ page

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