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Relegation Blues

Alan McKean

Sunday, May 9th, 2010

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Blow the last whistle, make the last pass,
Prevent the groundsman from inspecting the grass.
Silence the cheers and quietly grieve
Open the gates, let the faithful leave.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Let newspaper hacks with heart saddened frown
Scribble the news, we are down.
Put black on the pages of papers we read,
Let match day policemen the funeral lead.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 We travelled North, and South, and East and West,
We travelled afar, the lads played their best.
At noon, at midnight, we talked, sang our song,
We thought we’d be safe, we were wrong.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 The stars are not wanted now, for sale, everyone
Pack up the kit, put it all away son.
Go away for the summer and sweep out your brain,
For we’ll be back in August, to do it again.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 With apologies to WH Auden

© Alan McKean

Notes

I wrote this 5 years ago, just thought I’d bring it back out into daylight

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/relegation-blues-4/