Auden Adieu For A Loved One.

Stop all the Knocks, cut out the shoogley bone,
Prevent the hacks from yakking with a sharpened stone,
Silence the jumbotrons and with muffled drum
Bring out The Croat, let the Bears all moan.

Let helicopters change their direction overhead
Scribbling on the sky that He Is Injured,
Put big plasters o’er the mouths of the Celtic slags ,
Let the assistant referees wave black cotton flags.

He was our North, our South, our East and West,
Our working week and our Sunday rest,
Our noon, our midnight, our talk, our song;
I thought Dado would last for ever: I was wrong.

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Published:
04.17.07 / 8pm
Category:
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