Thursday, November 8, 2007

Shed a Tear for Roy Maurice Keane

Who’s that in the gutter, his suit thin and bare,
That stubbled young man with the destitute air?
Oh throw him a shilling, poor Roy has to eke
A living on sixty six thousand a week.

‘Tis sad this poor man has to travel abroad,
A sizeable pay cut his only reward.
Old Trafford is gone now, the future is bleak
On a miserable sixty six thousand a week.

How can he weather the financial heat,
This once wealthy man down and out in the street?
No hope of maintaining his former physique
On a miserly sixty six thousand a week.

So hold Roy to your hearts, wipe that tear from his face,
Don’t laugh when recalling his sad fall from grace.
Oh please, Dermot Desmond, please would you not tweak
That figure of sixty six thousand a week?

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