Long gone champions

This black figure passes by,
In the dark I can make out his features
Oh, how old he is now, how weak he looks,
Not so long ago he was tall and proud
The patriarch of an extended gipsy family.
He can fool you with his garb, his erect figure,
but he’s a frail old man now, when you care to look closer.

A black dog, goes in front of me,
Everybody knows him and nobody cares who owns him,
Guess he doesn’t care too, he’s just the town dog
Goes about the square and decides randomly
Who he is going to follow today,
No strings attached.

Up on the hill, the pigeon breeders
Sound their whistles, they’re calling their
Champions home.
Me too, I was a champion sometime
I played the dusty or muddy pitches for the local team,
Scored goals and jumped high
Celebrating the momentous glory
All gone now, a small run makes me short of breath already…

Up on the hill, whistles sound
Calling champions home,
We will all meet, up there on some hill
Long gone champions, faded patriarchs, rambling dogs…