THE SHOE SWEEP

 

(Written to mark the end of Season 2015/16)

 

 

you can laugh if you want   or not, but if you don’t

there’ll be no retribution                 no breach of a constitution

this was a sweep                                         it wouldnae come cheap

for the daftest o’ reason              but it lasted the season

it was agreed over beers                    at the fade o' cheers

thanks tae Kano                                                                      Europe here we go

so agreed over beers                                         at the fade o’ cheers

coming doon far Pittodrie                     nothing tawdry

like relegation, jings almighty                                   it was only the A90

but we were buzzin’ high                      and ready to fly

and in my euphoric state                    I said, ‘wouldn't it be great

if we could bet wi’ Fred                       on the UEFA Cup?’ I said

dinnae be daft, he said   lets hae a laugh, he said

on the Gaffers shoes    and win or lose

every week, or two     changin’ fae broon tae black

then a' the way back    tae broon or trainers

the winnners, the gainers                                     o’ this genius sweep

would pick the footwear                      fair and square, nailed on

no cheetin’ or greetin’                        what his feet had on

there’d be disqualification       definitely no’ justification

for wearin’ stilettos                    or snakeskin fae the ghettos

or cowboy boots    or brothel creepers

jeezy jeepers                 just simple rules o’ three

broon, black or trainers                                     snow, sun or rain, there is

no adjustment, 50 pence                                      no sitting on the fence

so into the season                        oor crazy notion o' reason

spread on the floor                        no matter the score

50p, ten bob        that’s the job

so in tae Europe aff we went                      but a short trip, an’ a puddin' lip

then what? oh no!               a double six throw!

hot and sunny     this wisnae funny

he’d been tae the shops                   he'd bought flip flops

you’re haein a laugh                 week one, the bet’s aff

but then it got better   as the days got wetter

and we had a run     o’ me loosin

cos the gaffer kept choosin’                                     trainers, wi his intials in gold

on the tongue. I wisnae sold     had ma son gein him a bung?

I’d banked on broon    and gone tae toon

when we started well                    a fine wee scorin' spell

mair wins than losses                   and 50p’s won wi’ the boss’s

random footwear     but I didnae care

tho’ we took some knocks                    we pulled up oor socks

in the angry din o’ Ibrox          they didnae fancy us

there wisnae a chance o’ us                beatin’ the bears, the gers

so the experts said                        they gave us nothin’, no cred

seemed to have forgot                        a certain Cup, a day in May

no’ that we gave a jot                       oor boys in blue

could beat their boys in blue                     and so we did

and their faces were red                       and on we went wi’ the sweep

this wisnae cheep                        ah wiz shippin dosh steep

but back tae Pittodrie                         again it wisnae tawdry

oh whit a sight tae feast on                                      Ronaldo Easton

in the air for ages                               I could right pages

fae the notes he gave me                       but save me

he smacked it, whacked it                                      whit a volley, a lifetime o’ swally

fae this moment o’ glee                       one in a hundred, tho’ I've a notion

the other ninety-nine                                        would've reached the ocean

intae the Autumn, a run o’ form              Caley, Morton, Accies, Killie

but ah kept on losin’                         wi’ the Gaffer’s choosin’

it was gettin’ silly    but up tae Dingwall, a Staggies Wall

Cup Tie bent it                                                           sent it, like Beckham

doon the A9                                                                feelin’ fine

under beer stained skies                                  wi’ a team o’ Dave Mackays

but we seemed tae peak                       and found a rubbish streak

Christmas came                          money spent, the form went

Christmas was blue                      it wisnae white - mair like a pile o shine a light

January was worse     the squeeze was on the Chairman’s purse

Tommy could've worn tackety bits      this sweep was getting oan ma - fits

and starts were put aside               forget the hassles, we had a big semi -

but let me tell you this              sadly, it wisnae to be bliss

as we took one under the ribs             fae a resurgent Hibs

so by the time we hit Dens               there was no pretence

the Boo Choir let fire     bared their claws, ah yer baws

they wanted the Gaffer                   for concrete bits

but no me, am a loyal fan                      o’ the Wright Man

and well, Motherwell    aw naw, anither draw

a pile o chances       and sideways glances

at the Chairman’s face                     nervous, big man mind yer place

then up popped The Scobs                      we could a’ keep oor jobs

and the choice o' shoe               was lost in the hullaballoo

he could've been wearin’ crocs              for a' the knocks

he kept on taken                           but he kept on makin'

the team tickin'       so forget the talkin'

o' the need for change    Guardiola’s no' in oor range

besides me, I'm a loyal fan                o' the Wright Man

and intae March     like starch, it stiffens determination

no recrimination                                                   buildin’ for celebration

a rollercoaster ride   tae avoid the slide

intae the mire o’ relegation.                 battles and rattles

o’ chains and no-one gains                 fae the bickerin, and bitin'

so the Team stood up    ready for the fightin'

dived intae the mix                                up for another top six

Caley, County, and Hearts                    hit for three, the best o’ starts

the perfect time     tae start a climb

and Ando, made his mark                     they should name the park

Ando Land          or hae a statue for his 362

and paint it the brightest blue                                   for a legend thro and thro

aye and Craig - wee man                           a sore one, just when you were havin’ fun

you had a wee run                              in the first team

a dream, broken      but listen, no jokin'

it’ll be alright                             someone will nobble the shite

he’s on the list      he’ll no’ be missed

the boys will go round                      he’ll never be found

but back to the games               and more o' the same

the Arabs and Killie    whit was that about?

the first was back tae silly                the next ain was a rout

yet the Gods did conspire                                      wi’ oor necks on the wire

we’d done it again   a top six finish, they cannae ignore

us much more, just sayin’ or can we wish for more

for this special o special clubs          for a’ the stick and the call up snubs

so we’d invite the Dons oor favourite neighbours

givin’ them no favours                                                       they must hate the Saints

they’ve no complaints                      but thanks for a’ the points

and County and Motherwell                                     you as well, thanks for the points

and it was nice o' the Champions tae put on a spread, a jamboree

and leave the points, aye all three and wi’ a jambo draw at the end

we could happily send a’ the players, a’ oor heroes

wi’ the Gaffer, and wi’ Calum         a’ their separate ways, for holidays

safe in the knowledge                      with this loyal pledge

wi’ my hand raised steady                  I’ll be back next season

but here’s a reason    I'm bored already

hae yer holidays     but lads, come back soon

I'd be ower the moon                       because Saturdays are fitba days

and Tommy, by the way                                                      the Sweep - fair play

but you cost me £9.50                  so dinnae be shifty

since I'm the biggest fan         o’ yours the Wright man

here’s a plan      to the legend o’ gaffers

could we no go haffers?           Thanks, Jim – your loyal Poet Man.