The summer is over,
It never came,
But, at least I got to go to Leeds fest,
Again.
Knee deep in mud,
And weak from the hunger,
Well, at least now I look 10 years younger.
My clothes are all dirty,
My tent is in tatters,
3 days without sleep,
Has just left me knackered.
My neck is quite stiff,
Cos’ I’m too old to mosh,
The beer made me sick,
And I spent all my dosh.
My wristband came off,
With no effort at all,
And now it lies silent,
Pinned to my wall.
I look at it now,
From my comfy armchair.
I remember the laughs,
And wish I were there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem