Boxing, football, rock n roll

A poem that started as a song, but never got round to adding the music!

Same old places, same old towns,
Same old faces with the same old frowns,
Stuck in a rut, your girlfriends a slut,
Sits on her but, looks like Jabba the Hutt.

Proletarian ambitions, with tired worn out traditions,
Cheap admissions and special editions,
Eating TV dinners with multiple sinners,
Faking winners outta total beginners.

Boxing, football, rock n roll,
Great escapes from shit escapes
Boxing, football, rock n roll,
Clear my mind and free my soul.

Rhyming songs not righting wrongs,
BBQ prongs and leopard skin things,
Height of bad taste, all art defaced,
Loyalty misplaced and honour disgraced.

Benefit fraud which morons applaud,
Cheap holidays abroad, best plans flawed,
Classless society, too much variety,
Avoiding anxiety by avoiding sobriety.

Boxing, football, rock n roll,
Great escapes from shit escapes
Boxing, football, rock n roll,
Clear my mind and free my soul.

© Copyright Craig A Bailey.

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