For the last time; he approached the table,
Studied the layout closely,
Looked across the green baize sea,
There was a hush in the crowd and they knew,
This would be Barry's Last game,
He took his position and steadied his cue,
And a break of amazement commenced,
Red, black, red, black,
The Balls were totally obedient,
Heading for a maximum now, the elusive 147,
Referee counting the break,
Barry could see and hear nothing but the table and balls,
He felt his mouth go dry and crossed back to his seat,
Taking a drink of ice cold bitter,
And a drag from his cigarette,
He returned to the table and continued his break,
He heard the ref call out, "One Hundred and Forty Seven."
Barry opened his eyes and smiled an enigmatic smile,
The morphine coursing through his body,
His wife by his side,
And a few moments later, My good friend, Barry, Died.
So I raise a glass in your Memory,
And this toast I make to you
"to the man who taught me how to live."
May you make many 147's on that great snooker table in the sky my friend.
ghist
ghost (May 12, 2008)
Studied the layout closely,
Looked across the green baize sea,
There was a hush in the crowd and they knew,
This would be Barry's Last game,
He took his position and steadied his cue,
And a break of amazement commenced,
Red, black, red, black,
The Balls were totally obedient,
Heading for a maximum now, the elusive 147,
Referee counting the break,
Barry could see and hear nothing but the table and balls,
He felt his mouth go dry and crossed back to his seat,
Taking a drink of ice cold bitter,
And a drag from his cigarette,
He returned to the table and continued his break,
He heard the ref call out, "One Hundred and Forty Seven."
Barry opened his eyes and smiled an enigmatic smile,
The morphine coursing through his body,
His wife by his side,
And a few moments later, My good friend, Barry, Died.
So I raise a glass in your Memory,
And this toast I make to you
"to the man who taught me how to live."
May you make many 147's on that great snooker table in the sky my friend.