Sing me no songs of love and light,
Of laughter, friends and summers bright.
No lilting lyrics tinged with bliss,
Sing me instead a song of this:
Salah, coming down the wing,
Dodging round and letting swing,
He strikes the ball and lets it fly,
The goalie sees it whistle by.
Your “moon and June” means nought to me.
Nor tea for two and two for tea.
I have no use for songs of flowers,
Of couples lost in tender hours.
Don’t think I’ll wait while someone sings
Of wedding vows and golden rings.
If you would melt my heart of stone
Sing me “You’ll never walk alone.”