Not in my Name
Not in my Name
When you’re out there digging your mum’s garden
And it’s a blue sky March Saturday
And you’re out there Oedipun alone
With all your childhood memories,
After starting the day in Stroud
Reading the parish council poster board,
“Were you in Stroud in World War 2?”
“Do you have any artefacts to share?”
Things in are in your mind
When you go into your dead dad’s shed,
And see him there in his proud new uniform,
Clutching his letters from Tobruk,
And twiddling the knobs on his massive Chindit radio,
Smiling in a new century’s motes and beams,
As the spring sun poured in through that dusty Swindon window,
And you think that you might just offer Stroud Museum
A cutting of the vine that grew in the greenhouse,
The greenhouse where the Anderson bomb shelter used to be,
The old bomb shelter just outside this very shed window,
The vine that grew from a cutting from just outside this very shed window,
And that now clambers up over my Stroud home back yard fence;
It would be a sort of swords into ploughshares symbolic offering.
And you catch the bus back into town,
Going past the empty stadium’s bus stop
That was once your fortnightly pilgrimage,
Where you see the flags unfurled and hanging from the bedroom windows,
A patriotic display of support for sons and brothers, I suppose,
Now serving His Majesty overseas,
(And it’s Tommy this and Tommy that, an Tommy wait outside
But it’s special train for Atkins when the trooper’s on the tide,
The troopship’s on the tide my boys, the troopship’s on the tide
O it’s special train for Atkins when the troopers on the tide)
And so once more you feel a stranger in your own country,
This England, My England too,
Where the mind set of a Middle England military morality
Has once more stolen your colours,
And silenced any possibility,
Silenced any possibility,
Of some sort of plurality
Of inter-textual playful interpretation,
Of the meaning of a red cross on your t-shirt,
For in War you’re either for us or against us,
In the tabloid game boy breaking news nightmare,
Of unconscious manipulation,
Of unconscious manipulation,
Of the hearts and minds of the terraces of old England.
And there you sit in the middle of the bus,
(This Happy Breed – Could be going to Clapham)
Middle aged and middle class, looking forward to getting back home,
And remembering your earlier chat with your mum,
Out there by the old bomb shelter,
Talking of Empire Day back in the 1920’s,
Where she suddenly broke
Into spontaneous and half remembered school girl song,
“ It’s up to the days of Old England,
The land of the brave and the true,
In lands far away
They are calling today
Three cheers for the red, white and blue.”
“But they’re not any more, are they?” she said,
“All the old ways have gone.”
Well they haven’t quite I thought,
And some of them I revere
And some of them I despise
And some of them are done,
But not, I hope, in my name.
So how, once more,
Do I reclaim that flag?
That flag that’s hanging out the soldier boys’ windows,
Reclaim it for and in my name,
Reclaim it from a war I regard as immoral, illegal and illogical,
Reclaim it for all the values and traditions that I hold dear,
Reclaim it so I can regard that flag with pride,
Rather than a guilty embarrassment –
Only through participation,
Only through pitching in,
Only through demonstrating, discussing and challenging,
Only through demonstrating, discussing and challenging,
And changing the status quo;
Because if you turn your back
On the life of an active citizen,
If you turn your back on action,
If you countenance apathy, cynicism and self-exclusion,
Then that cross and that Jack
Will always be one eyed,
And you will always feel ashamed of your country
And your birthright,
And you’ll never be able to say,
“My country right or wrong”
Or “Not in my name”;
So let’s remember,
It’s our England too –
Participate, Agitate, Organise, Unionise,
Subvert, invert –
Only connect, but usurp;
For it’s our cross to bear.
About This Site
Welcome to Football Poets -- a club for all football poets, lovers of football and lovers of (alternative) poetry. Discover poets in every league from respected internationals at the top of their game to young hopefuls in the school playground.
Publish your football poems here and then discuss them with your team mates and fans. We're archived by The British Library, so your masterpieces are in the safe hands of a world-class keeper. What a result!
My Account
Latest Poems
joe morris
4th May 2024
Crispin Thomas
2nd May 2024
joe morris
2nd May 2024
joe morris
28th April 2024
Richard Williams
26th April 2024
joe morris
25th April 2024
Denys E. W. Jones
25th April 2024
kevin halls
23rd April 2024
Alex Saynor
23rd April 2024
Crispin Thomas
22nd April 2024
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
29th April 2024 at 2:47 pm
Hi Denys,
Yes Richard Williams you’re a brilliant wordsmith, my friend. When I first saw your football poetry I thought it was the superb Guardian sports and music writer. I once had the honour of sitting next to Richard Williams while at the Independent on the sports desk. He writes about music and sport with immense knowledge and authority. I’ve read a couple of Richard’s books recently. Great writer rather like you Richard Williams the Pompey fan. Congratulations on promotion.
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28th April 2024 at 5:59 pm
Thanks Denys. Yes your replay poem was superb.
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26th April 2024 at 4:46 pm
Nice work, Joe. You were quick off the mark with that! Good one from Richard Williams too I see.
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25th April 2024 at 7:33 pm
Hi Denys,
Thanks mate. I’ll do it now.
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25th April 2024 at 1:56 pm
Thanks Joe,
you might like to write a poem yourself on the same subject…
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23rd April 2024 at 4:03 pm
Hi Denys
With you all the way on the abolition of FA Cup replays. What are they doing to the game?
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23rd April 2024 at 3:59 pm
Hi Crispin,
Yes sorry mate. Villa are still in Europe. Mistake rectified.
Cheers
Joe
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20th April 2024 at 12:04 pm
Hi Joe
Shouldn’t your title read your poem Farewell Europe England to everyone exccept Aston Villa ?
I know you mention them in your poem , but I do feel sorry for Villa re the national press .
Largely ignored. the hype was was all about Man City & Arsenal with a bit of a nod to the Hammers..but hardly a mention of Villa..
So well done to them
C
.
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19th March 2024 at 8:00 am
Hi Crispin. Chris Sutton on the radio has gone for a Chelsea v Coventry final. As we know anything can happen in the Cup, and I reckon we can go to the final.
We’re still in with a chance of the play offs too, so lots to go for.
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19th March 2024 at 7:41 am
Hey Kev
Let the masses drool over their odds on City v Unted Final, but who knows how pressure can hit.
Cov and Chels will be rightly labelled as having no chance..but hey …stranger things have happened..
so Chelsea v Coventry…that’s the Final for us!
Best
C
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