A Ditty of Two Titties

A Ditty of Two Titties

Exiled Valiant Barry Edge lives in Perth, Western Australia and is a regular columnist for onevalefan. Chris, aka Trent Vale Valiant, decided to share ‘His Terrible Secret’ with onevalefan. For Barry’s part, he decided there was no better way to celebrate his half-century of ovf poems, memoirs and other articles than by converting Chris’ post into a ‘titty of a ditty’.

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At the outset I apologise unreservedly for any resemblance to and/or variation on a theme of Charles Dicken’s book titled ‘A Tale of Two Cities’. Also, special thanks to Mrs Trent Vale Valiant for allowing Chris to share ‘His Terrible Secret’ with onvalefan.

A Ditty of Two Titties

His mind is in turmoil
And his soul a tortured mess,
But finally he’s found the strength
To step up and confess,
For no longer can he keep
‘His Secret’ from his friends,
And knows the time is ripe
To post and make amends.

As the tears run down his face,
And the words stick in his throat
He tells us many years ago
His missus worked for Stoke
Drawing beers behind the bar
In the old Victoria Ground,
Just a short walk from their home
In nearby Trentham Town.

He shuffles in his chair
With nervous energy
As his fingers type this story
For you and me to see,
Then pausing for a moment
With hand upon his heart
He is feeling so much better
That he has made a start.

When Stoke was playing home
The bar was in good cheer
With the laughter of its patrons
Getting louder with each beer,
But for some the liquid amber
Loosened tongues and blurred the mind,
Whilst several would get nasty
And became the fighting kind.

For Mrs Trent Vale Valiant
There were times both good and bad
From fending of the Romeos’
To humouring ‘Jack the lad’,
She would hear about religion
And politics of course,
Plus how the Mighty Potters
‘Are a sleeping football force’.

With the first half done and dusted
They would come from everywhere
To get the beers in fast
And drink their wallets bare,
Her bar would be quite frantic
And she was at a push
To keep the service flowing
In the frenzied half-time crush.

As the beads of perspiration
Are forming on his brow
Chris knows the time has come
To reveal ‘His Secret’ NOW,
So he straightens in his chair
And takes a deep, deep breath,
For if he doesn’t tell us
It will haunt him to his death.

It was in the second half
When the bars were finally closed
And the money all cashed up,
Or so the story goes,
When Mrs Trent Vale Valiant
And another bar-keep friend
Took the takings to the ‘Office
Via the Boothen End.

With an escort from the ‘Plod
They would walk around the pitch
To a rising whistling chorus
Plus suggestions all too rich,
Because Mrs Trent Vale Valiant
Would stand out in a crowd
For, according to our Chris,
She’s a lady well endowed,

Then the Boothen Gospel Choir
Would sing the same old ditty
For Mrs Trent Vale Valiant
To show a little titty
To the ‘Lads out in the middle
‘Please show ‘em if you dare,
It will brighten up their day
For you’ve got a lovely pair’.

He’s done it boys and girls,
His Secret’s off his chest,
And the nightmare he’s endured
Can now be laid to rest,
With his shame now truly buried
There’s a huge sigh of relief,
And when he goes to bed tonight
He’ll enjoy a blissful sleep.

Barry Edge
Western Australia
July 15, 2003

🙂

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