Football Poets

At Big Dave’s feet we lay our solemn trust
On his attacking intent we pin all our fervent hope.
To circumnavigate the cut and thrust
Of November nights in Rotherham… Dave will cope.
(The nickname goes back to when first the link was made
Between the gentle giant in a junk food advert
And our own stone colossus of a man who played
In the heart of a similarly stout defence; enough to disconcert
The most potent of attacking threat).
And it seemed to sum the great man up:
Unflappable. Towering. Cool. You didn’t fret
When he pulled on the stripes to play for us in league or cup.
And who can forget that arm-pumping goal against Palace to take us back
To the Promised Land, where we truly belong?
Years later, after Pardew was awarded a well-deserved sack,
The fan’s favourite gets moved on up, to deep-throated song
And deserved adulation. Almost kept us up too, against insurmountable odds…
But the Championship it must be for now,
Perhaps Fate decreed it so, written, somehow, in the Gods,
So w can boing boing back in suitable style… and how!
Scoring goals for fun; Gayle and Barnes, both class- (Mooro was inspired
When he got that pair to scrawl their autographs on the dotted line…
And neither cost a pretty penny when their services were hired!)
Yep, in Big Dave we trust- lose not a wink of beauty sleep ‘cos we’re gonna be fine-
Forget all the doom-mongers with their petty snipes and whingeing gripes;
For, like a stick of rock, Big Dave bleeds blue and white stripes.