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smallstepsmadpotepotriemantheartfulcodgerscog
Rounds


A crowded bar in Roermond,
I stumbled and nearly fell
And then experienced
A nasty little taste of hell.
Just an accident really,
It could have hit or missed
But the beer slowly poured over
This Jock, mad and fighting pissed.

A swift knee to the gonads
A butting forehead to my nose
The classic Glasgow kiss
You don't need many of those.
He stood there triumphant
Lord of all he surveyed
Image slightly marred by
The way he gently swayed.

Me, I watched this from my
Position curled on the floor
Hurting top and bottom
I didn't care much any more.
I crawled to a corner table,
Not a fig for any lost pride
Nursing my aching regions,
Crying quietly deep down inside.

One last glare from the Jock then
He was out of the bar and gone.
Just a thirty second sensation
And then the drinking carried on.
No sympathy from the mates
Just a loud ironic cheer
When I made it back from the bar
With a replacment round of beer.







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