Magpie Day

Swooped down from the suburbs for the game

And settled in at Macca's place

He in a loft inner city with wide screen

Beers in the fridge wife outta town

Grand final in style amongst the faithful

Game underway and many beers sunk

Each goal and point applauded

Each bad referee's decision appalling

By the end of it we were so drunk

We didn't even know who'd won

So we smashed out of the flat

And hit the rain slick streets

Cawing club songs and leering

At locals who looked at us like freaks

For all we knew our team had won

And the streets were ours

Flapping our wings stabbing our beaks

As we scavenged in garbage bins

Invisible in this blackest of black nights

Punching heads of the walking dead

These streets are ours

Gained through bragging and fist fights

Brother, these streets are ours

© shaun patrick green 2011