Before I began, I thought long and hard,
Just what is the purpose of the Bard,
How would the rhymes be perceived,
If I was, but a fool, indeed,
But after a while, I thought I just don't care,
And I offered up my rhyming fare!
The guesses so far have shown to me,
That I might just conceal my identity,
'Cos for me it's a pleasure, to sit and think,
Compose my thoughts, over a hot drink,
And write stories about the great times I've seen,
The journey's I've made, the places I've been!
So a trip to Essex this weekend,
Our first league game, against Southend,
A long way to go for our traveling flock,
No doubt setting off, at silly o'clock
Shrimps versus Shrimpers, the losers concede,
The title of Best Trawler-men, in the League!
A salute & message to those that travel away,
Don't let the football, ruin your day,
This mantra I've heard many times before,
Spoken from wisdom of what might be in store,
So at Roots Hall, sing us to victory,
Get home safely, and bring back all three!
The bard shall return to these shores once more,
before a trip to Bradford, and at least a score draw,
Valley Parade can be a daunting sight,
Of what Bradford would term their obvious might
But we are the Morecambe, we just love to be,
The ones to spoil, the Bantams, Party!
Until next time, and more rhyming crime!