That Ruddy Jeff
Here we are again, same old stadium, same old place
Surrounded by, at least, one very friendly well worn face
It’s saturday again, the team’s at home, and, in action
Let’s hope, that, this week, the good old boys, give us, satisfaction
We don’t want, another week, like, the ones that, have come before
You know the sort of games I mean, those where, we don’t score
The games, when the opposition, let us off with scoring none
Hopefully, our giants will show, those days are forever gone
It’s kick off time, and, I look around ,seeing Jeff, my buddy
In seeing him, the only thought I have, how is, your face so ruddy
Honestly, that man must live outdoors, twentyfour seven
But, I suppose, if, away from footie, that’s his idea of heaven
Who are we, to tell him, he should only be out, on match days
But, typical of good old Jeff, he is so set in his ways
And, besides, the strikers need him, as a beacon, to aim at
So, ruddy Jeff, and, that gleaming face, enough said about that
Then from nowhere, comes a, home fans roar
Is it a goal, no, just passed it out, of the back four
If that’s, the sort of thing, we adoring fans are cheering
Then, the final whistle, I want to be hearing
This is too much, for a grown man, to take
I suppose, I could stay at home, and, help the missus bake
Wait one second, the other five fans, have started, a Mexican wave
This, is one memory, tthat, I’ll take with me, to my grave
A Mexican wave, done by the seven fans, together
A beautiful site, that defies, the full on English weather
It’s full time at last, and, we never conceded a goal, it was five!
Still, for these few hours, on saturday, it’s so good to be alive
