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The mountains (and window ledges)we have to climb to watch Celtic!

The pillas are puffed, the wee screen’s turned on
The glow frae its lamp tints the room
The earphones are plugged, ma tea’s by ma side
Ah’m chuffed as a wean in the womb

But whit’s a’ this buzz? There’s snow everywhere
The picture is full of white noise
They’re here then they’re no’, jist blur, fade and freeze
Time tae rise frae ma bed fur the Bhoys

Eight thousand miles isnae really that far
Fur a “PC that’s state of the art”
Wae buttons and knobs tae turn, press an’ tweak
A bargain frae Exchange an’ Mart

Wae ma coat hanger bent, twisted an’ kinked
Its hooked bit stretched up tae the sky
Wae wan foot on flair, and wan on the sill
“An inch or two mair, if Ah try”

The picture looks great from this vantage point
Ma neck will recover wan day
Strain under ma arm or in between legs
See the Hoops really startin’ tae play

Precariously I shift on wan foot
A cramp stabs frae ankle tae spine
The house o’ cards falls, I crash tae the grun’
An erse in ma face – “Feck, that’s mine”!

An’ now the back in bed, wae sweet smellin sheets
Re-running the game in mind’s eye
An angel in white, a cup wae a spout
In traction, in ward six Ah lie

A passing wee thought frae ‘stranded in Rio’.

Hail Hail

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