Football Poets

Roy Keane exits Manchester United

3 very different viewpoints of the Roy Keane exit from Man Utd, all written within hours of the announcement.

But before them, a wonderful summary of the Roy & Alex love story, told in Peter Goulding’s inimitable style.

The Ballad of Roy and Alex

It began with a glance
At a Nottingham dance,
With Roy in the first flush of youth.
He was wanton and wild,
A free-spirited child,
So simple and raw and uncouth.
As he twirled up and down
In his burgundy gown,
He captured a poor Scotsman’s heart.
And when Alex proposed,
It was widely supposed
That the two of them never would part.

And they danced arm in arm,
By the light of the moon,
Both humming the same merry tune.

One swarthy, one supple,
They made a fine couple,
And the good times were quick to arrive.
Under Alex’s gaze,
Roy was showered with praise,
For his energy levels and drive.
But the instant acclaim
And the newly-found fame
Didn’t make much impression on Roy,
And the man from the Gorbals
Made sure silver baubles
Were showered on the young Mayfield boy.

And they danced cheek to cheek,
By the light of the moon,
Both humming the same merry tune.

“You look gorgeous tonight,”
Said Sir Alex, not quite
Paraphrasing the great Eric Clapton.
And down on one knee,
He said, “Roy, can’t you see?
I am asking that you be my captain.”
Poor Roy, caught off guard,
Swallowed deep, swallowed hard,
And his face went a deep shade of red.
Then through tears of great joy,
Came the answer from Roy,
“Oh gaffer, I’d love to,” he said.

And they danced face to face,
By the light of the moon,
Both humming the same merry tune.

Roy left for a while,
For a far-eastern isle
To prepare for a very fine party,
But he came home in tears
With abuse in ears,
Falling foul of a man named McCarthy.
But Sir Alex was there
With great comfort and care,
And his shoulder was tender and broad.
Then they talked through the issue,
Alex gave him a tissue,
And service once more was restored.

And they danced hand in hand,
By the light of the moon,
Both humming the same merry tune.

But time marches on,
And where once Roy’s star shone,
Now others were vying for glory.
And Sir Alex’s eye
Did get turned by and by
In this once-inspirational story.
Within Roy, the fire,
Once a crackling pyre,
Was reduced to a small glowing ember,
Alex’s heart had been captured, bedazzled, enraptured,
By somebody called Djemba-Djemba.

And they danced by themselves,
By the light of the moon,
Both humming a different tune.

Then one day, it’s said,
Things did come to a head,
The marriage had run it’s long course.
There were harsh words indeed
But both parties agreed
To a quick and a final divorce.
The parting was sudden,
The faces were wooden,
Though deep down inside, they were aching.
For when love goes askew
There’s not much you can do,
When your heart is so publicly breaking.

And they danced one more time,
In the cold light of day,
Then both turned and walked slowly away.

© Peter Goulding

The Fallen Idol.

The fallen idol vents his wrath
When blingers least expect it
Then the one true red with any cred
Heads toward the exit

Tis right to be taken down a peg
When results do go agin
To feel the skippers rantings
As he tells you ” We must win”

“Pack yer bag, yer past it, sad”
The whispers start to fly
“When you’ve scaled the heights that he has
Then ye can criticize”

© kjp raymond 2005

The Boss

“Tramps like us, baby we were born to run”

And so I ran
From box to box
Up pitch and down
Lengthways
Widthways (touch to touch)
Sideways (crab like)
Raiding (grab like)
Then parading
Whenever victory, came our way

But I preferred it, this servitude
Couldn’t have coped, with the repsonsibility, that faced the Boss
Tramping up and down the line
Dishing out orders, (like the soup kitchens we too often frequent)
Or the frustrations, he experienced
As his instructions, either went unheeded
Or lack of ability, impeded, compliance

Taking the level up a notch, or six or so
Could you ever imagine Roy Keane
Having the aptitude to be a manager?

© Des T Tuit, 18/11/2005

On the Road

Roy Keane on the road,
Wigan calling?
That’s what happens
When you speak your mind.

Proof
That just criticisms
Are unacceptable
At the triple glazing company.

Truth does hurt, Alex
Accept it

© Alan McKean, November 2005

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