Gazza’s Tears

In the Turin backstreets,
Shrouded in mystery,
Is a huckster who hawks
Artefacts from history.
If you’re after an item
Of religious regalia,
The old man will have it,
He’ll be unlikely to fail yer.

He has some crucifix nails
And Mary Magdalen’s shawl,
At least three crowns of thorns
And the letters of St Paul.
He’s got the robes of Pope Leo,
John the Baptist’s cellphone,
And all Ten Commandments
Carved into stone.

But of the things down the years
He’s managed to purloin,
The pièce de résistance
Are the tears of Gascoigne,
Collected together
In an old azure tin,
From the time Gazza broke down
One night in Turin.


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