Another night off the substitute’s bench,
the lads are all reeking of the same deep stench,
the acrid burn of pine-fresh flush
and aftershave.
Anyone seen Dave?
Down among the spew stains and cigarette butts,
pigskin jacket and pigskin snacks,
fat men joking with the girl out back,
but that’s ok,
she’s game.
See, she’s smiling.
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