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Marc's 30th Birthday

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The Portbury Hundred is his clan

Though he’s not reached a ton

But Marc is edging closer now –

He’s nine past twenty-one.

 

Our Kate first knew him when at school

Though then in rival towns

Her pride was in her graceful pier

While all he had were Grounds.

 

And yet it seems the heart can bridge

The miles and years between

And now though she’s a London girl

In Bristol she is seen.

 

He’s worked himself into a Box

For CDs he’ll design

New covers that are works of art

And all the songs outshine.

 

A pity he’s a Rovers fan

For she backs Ashton Gate

While her side will be going up

His lot will relegate.

 

Some say he is so wondrous slim

He dodges ‘tween the rain

I’m not sure I’d agree with that

But watch out for that drain!

 

A-pun my word – he plays with them

As if it shows true wit

Instead of just the lowest form

Just like some journo twit.

 

He likes comics and horror films

He thrives on Living Dead

But when the blood comes gushing out

Why does it flow bright t-red?

 

A man of many parts it seems

The best for LA Nick

And now he’s hit the mark with Kate

And that is no mean trick!

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