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a Highland crofter's 'but and ben' |
Ben
Birthed in Cuil Dubh, black nook,
by half-moon light and his mother
didn't make it, marked down early
as a trouble child, dark in looks
and temperament, for what could
highland isolation offer the lad
only the unearthing of badness?
Ben McColl hated sheep and wool
and school except for football,
would spend his free hours out
on the heather moor, leathering
his prized possession, dreaming
of turning out for Tain Thistle or
even Ross County one day, knew
he had to get away. For some it's
boxing, but his feet did the talking,
for others the army, and he did get
murderous thoughts, though you'd
have to be barmy, wouldn't you?
even with a dirk down your sock.
So he kept on practising penalties
against that crofter's wall beneath
forbidding hills until a hiker spied
him, a scout for Inverness Caley
on a summer break, the day that
changed Ben's life. Random fate.
A trial, youth terms first, in time
a regular in the league squad. He
soon grew into a weapon of a man,
became worth an extravagant fee.
Still has dark thoughts, still hates
sheep, keeps a dirk in his locker,
lives in Spain these days, a legend.
Hola! The fans call him El Asesino
and he's making a killing as a striker
in La Liga with Real Sociopath.
Thanks for reading, S ;-)
3 comments:
Real Sociopath - brilliant, Steve! 😂
Most of the crofter cottages are tarted-up holiday lets these days. I liked your Ben poem but surely Real Sociopath isn't a real football club? (Tain Thistle and Ross County are.)
Splendid nonsense. 👏
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