A season left in me
Poem (Author unknown)
I’m old and worn and awfully slow,
I don’t run like I used to though,
For if you’d played a game like mine,
And carried the ball across the line,
Or kicked the goal to win the final,
Not thinking of a fractured spinal…
cord. I’ve broken every other bone,
My ankle ligaments are torn,
My knee cartilages are taken out,
No one can straighten up my snout.
But… I’ve got a season left in me,
They put a steel pin in my knee,
I’ll strap my ankle and my shoulder,
Tape and shoulder pads will hold ‘er,
My nose was never very nice,
Danker Rub killers flees and lice,
So why don’t you come along
and see me sprinting for a try,
with blood pouring from my eye,
We win the game, we’re best of all
They cart me off to hospital,
Beer, Champagne, a celebration,
or yet another operation.
