Marc's 30th Birthday
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!