@MattAbbottPoet

@MattAbbottPoet
Image © Copyright Amy Charles Media 2014

27 Sep 2011

When Saturday Comes


There’s no rational explanation
The lads can do no wrong
Bound by love and dedication
This is where we all belong
And I don’t need a rhyme or reason
To spend my weekly wage
I’ve followed them every season
Since seven years of age
And this game changes you forever
Life reduced to crumbs
There’s no doubting my endeavour

When Saturday Comes, we come alive
When Saturday Comes, at two fifty-nine

The floodlit sky provides direction
For those away from home
As one man ponders his selection
One man’s left to roam
And the pubs are awash with coloured clothes
Not a square inch going spare
And then they exit in their droves 
Excitement fills the air

And he might earn more in a summer 
Than I earn in my life
He’s got a hot tub and a Hummer
And Miss World for his wife
But when he scored that left-foot screamer
Became the golden son
He joined the drinkers and the dreamers

When Saturday Comes, we come alive 
When Saturday Comes, at two fifty-nine

And I don't need a rhyme or reason
To spend my weekly wage
I’ve followed them every season
Since seven years of age
And it’ll change your way forever
Your life reduced to crumbs
And there’s no doubting my endeavour

When Saturday Comes
When Saturday Comes

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