The man with a Saturday plan
That’s what I like to call him
Took a bus as far as town, hopping off near enough Templebar
Good idea thought I, sod the car
Fell upon a trad music gig
Man with the crusty beard who sells cheap books on the corner laughs when he sees our legs try a jog
Quench my cigarette to take a closer look
What does dad do but buy me a Leonard Cohen book
Ate at the bank bar, catching United v. Liverpool on the telly
He orders the pumpkin soup, while I go for the steak sandwich in order to fill my rumbling belly
Funny story to tell you
About how dad likes to change his name to Alphonso Condotti on Saturday’s
Booking himself and my mother into a plush restaurant on the quays
Strange, but thinking about it some more, his is a humour well within my range
Fancies himself a pair of shoes – namely loafers
Even if they’re the kind which his Chiropodist says will only bring his back bad news
Doesn’t matter, he informs me
Feel the pain from Monday through Friday
Come Saturday he won’t feel a thing
When the name’s Condotti his problems he won’t need to bring
My Dad
The man with a Saturday plan
That’s what I like to call him
