The Loving Game

A quarter of a century ago
I hung the gloves up, knew I'd had enough
Of taking it and trying to dish it out,
Foxing them or slugging it toe-to-toe;
Keen youngster made the going a bit too rough;
The time had come to have my final bout.

I didn't run to fat though, kept in shape,
And seriously took up the loving game,
Grew moony, sighed, and even tried to sing,
Looked pretty snappy in my forty-drape.
I lost more than I won, earned little fame,
Was hurt much worse than in the other ring.

from Collected Poems 1950-1993 (Robson Books Ltd, 1993), copyright © Vernon Scannell 1993, used by permission of the author


Vernon Scannell

Vernon Scannell Reading from his Poems

1They Did Not Expect This

2The Lynching

3The Great War

4Walking Wounded

5A Case of Murder

6When we were Married

7A Song to Celebrate

8Growing Pain

9Spot-Check at Fifty

10The Loving Game

11Wicket Maiden

12The Bombing of the Cafe de Paris, 1941

13On Leave: May 1916

14Candle Reflections


16Drinking Up Time


18Casualty - Mental Ward

19Frying Tonight

20The Searchers

21Sunt Lacrimae Rerum

Books by Vernon Scannell