|
| POETRY |
| I've around a bit,and i've tasted food that's rare. |
| But with our greasy pies ,nothing can compare. |
| From match to match they vary,from cool to even colder, |
| Even when they're tarted up in a celtic pie holder. |
| They never stay the same, from one game to the next, |
| And as for what they'll taste like ,that's anybodys guess. |
| Made from the stringiest meat,heavily disguised, |
| By drowning it in grease,till all the taste has died. |
| Once,last season,when everything was won, |
| A tale of a hot tasty pie on sale was printed by the sun. |
| Word soon spread like wildfire,about this miracle at parkhed |
| When a pie was said to be edible or so the papers said. |
| That was the first time it happened,and its never happened |
| since,'cos the celtic board was furious the pie contained |
| Real mince |
| They went to great lengths to ensure the practice would ceas |
| And ordered the removal of some mince ,and the adding |
| Of some grease. |
| |
| (Inspired by franco murray) |
|
|
