Poems tagged ‘Everton’

Twenty-Five Percent

“Twenty-five percent possession?
Doesn’t sound that much.
Twenty-five percent possession?
Surely not enough.
Twenty-five percent possession?
Reckon we’ll need more.
Let the Red Shirts hog the ball,
No doubt they will score.”

Hunger, pride and nude aggression,
They can take you far.
You don’t need too much possession,
Sometimes less is more.
Plus a Ground that’s full of passion,
Hear the Bluenose Roar.
Liverpool were taught a lesson,
When we two goals scored.

Denys E. W. Jones

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Updated Hokey Cokey

You take ten points off.
You give four points back.
Off, back, off, back,
You hang ’em on a rack.
You do the Hokey Cokey,
And you turn around,
Is that what it’s all about?

You take two more off.
Two more docked.
Off, docked, off, docked,
It’s way over the top.
It isn’t okey dokey,
It’s right out of bounds,
What is this all about?

Oh the hokey cokey.
Oh the hokey cokey.
Oh the hokey cokey.

How much more can we take?

Denys E. W. Jones

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When Dominic Finds The Net

When Dominic finds the Net again, hurrah, hurrah,
We’ll give him a stand’ ovation then, hurrah, hurrah.
We’ll all beg for his autograph,
And a selfie, and we’ll share a laugh,
And we’ll be all smiles when Dominic scores again.

Our Dominic’s gone right off the boil, alas, alas.
He works so hard, he sweats and toils, oh yes, oh yes.
He hits the post and he strikes the bar,
He comes so close and he’s still so far,
Cos that ball refuses to go in the Bag.

Time was he scored in ev’ry game, hurrah, hurrah.
And got a call from G. Southgate, hurrah, hurrah.
But oh dear, then he picked up a knock,
And he spent months sidelined as a crock,
And he just ain’t been the same since he came back.

When Dominic scores a goal again, hurrah, hurrah,
He’ll start to rock ‘n’ roll again, hurrah, hurrah.
The cocks will crow and the dogs will bark,
And they’ll hear our roar across the Park,
Yeah, we’ll raise the roof when Dominic finds the Net!

Denys E. W. Jones

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The Hokey Cokey

You take ten points off.
You give four points back.
Off, back, off, back,
You shake ’em in a sack.
You do the Hokey Cokey,
And you turn around,
Is that what it’s all about?

Denys E. W. Jones

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Hats Off To The Hatters

We cried “Bring on the Hatters!”
We thought “Already won.”
But Luton Town would not lie down,
Defeated us two-one.
So out of the Cup we crash.
Our Silverware hopes are in tatters.
Note to selves should read: “Be less complacent
Next time we play the Hatters.”

Denys E. W. Jones

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Bring On The Hatters

At Selhurst Park they sent Dom off,
Though it was ne’er a foul.
They’re threat’ning yet more points to dock,
They kick us when we’re down.

But we are made of steely stuff,
We’ve got hairs on our chest.
We live up to our motto proud –
“Nil Satis But The Best!”

The Replay was at Goodison,
From far and wide they came.
The match weren’t on our TV screens,
So many missed the game.

Sean Dyche put out a full-strength side,
Though some said “Play the Kids!”
A gem free-kick from Gomes
Put Palace on the skids.

The match was drab by all accounts,
Although that hardly matters.
We’ve made it through to the Fourth Round,
So now Bring on the Hatters!

I feel it in my waters.
I feel it in my bones.
That Luton too we shall dispatch,
Move further down that road.

The one that leads to Wembley,
Where we have won before.
Or so I’m told, long, long ago,
In the bygone days of yore.

‘Most nine and twenty years have passed
Since we won Silverware.
Though hard we’re tasked, and storm winds blast,
This just might be our year.

Denys E. W. Jones

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All We Want For Christmas

Yuletide is fast approaching,
And all the talk’s of gifts.
Old Santa’s gearing himself up
To work his yearly shift.

The kids are writing letters,
To make clear every wish.
And adults too are at it,
Young, Old, Black, White, Poor, Rich.

It seems all want a present,
Well, all except us Blues.
We’re sitting on the sidelines here,
For prezzies we’ve no use.

We don’t want any razor blades,
No aftershave or soap.
We’ve no desire for Ray-Ban shades,
We only have one hope.

We don’t require underpants,
No socks or boxer shorts.
No toasters, drills or bedside lamps,
Our list is very short.

We ask no curry powder,
To make a tasty dish.
We’ll shout it even louder,
We only have one wish!

For all we crave is Justice,
Cos we feel mighty miffed.
We think we’ve been hard done by,
Been given such short shrift.

So we won’t care if Santa brings
Us no gifts in his sack.
Cos all we want for Christmas is
To have our ten points back!

Denys E. W. Jones

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Points Deduction

You’ve taken ten points off us,
But we are not dismayed.
There’s plenty more still up for grabs,
Loads matches to be played.

Of ten points you have stripped us,
But we’re not mice, we’re men.
So we’ll just roll our sleeves up,
And win them back again.

You’ve really raised our hackles,
We feel like we’re at war.
So week by week and match by match
Those points back we shall claw.

We’ll fight them on the beaches,
Revive the Dunkirk Spirit.
Because this heavy sanction,
We surely do not merit.

We’re circling our wagons,
Our backs are to the wall.
We do not seek a quick fix,
We’re in for the long haul.

Our flag is not at half-mast,
It flutters high and proud.
For we are not downhearted,
We’re bloodied but unbowed.

You want to relegate us,
But we shall not surrender.
Our heads are above water,
We are not going under.

We’ll fight for every loose ball,
We’ll chase every lost cause.
We’ll keep it tight and nick one,
We shall not let you score.

Our Home Ground is a fortress,
Away we’ve strong support.
So up and down the country,
You’ll hear the Toffee roar!

We’ve no friends in high places,
No saints in Paradise.
It seems nobody likes us,
Cos we’re not very nice.

But we’re a Band of Brothers,
We are a Happy Few.
If we all stick together,
These dark times we’ll get through.

And when this Season’s over,
We’ll still be there, no fear.
We’ll not be in the Drop Zone,
Nay, we’ll be ten points clear!

Denys E. W. Jones

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Sporting Benefits

It’s easy to mock,
marvellous to laugh and sing,
Hooray, Everton
are right back in the mire again.

May be Jordan Pickford
should play for the Blades,
A better sanction
than ten points taken away.

Or share them out
with the newly promoted three.
Make Everton pay for football’s
high crime of dodgy accountancy.

Now get the Popcorn out,
ready for the real laugh out loud,
the one that will send
a big fish to National League South.

Medals, pots, and pans will be thrown
in the bottomless dustbin of history,
and financial misdemeanours
will no longer bank roll shiny cup glory.

Or Everton remain the one answer
to the football quiz question set to persist,
while the elite get a measly fine,
a stern warning, and a slap across the wrist.

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Three Teams Worse Than Us

The Table don’t look healthy,
We’ve really messed things up.
But we’re not worried in the least,
There’s three teams worse than us …

I popped into the barber’s,
To get my long hair clipped.
The owner is a Koppite,
He likes to takes the Mick.

He said “Oh, hi there Bluenose,
For you the game is up.”
I countered “Not so fast there, mate,
There’s three teams worse than us.”

I hopped into a taxi,
And yelled “Follow that car!”
The cabbie said “Hey, ‘Tonian,
Your Toffees won’t get far.”

I said “Just drive your motor,
And keep your mouth tight shut.
We’re not in any danger,
There’s three teams worse than us.”

Now I won’t say which teams these are,
I don’t want to tempt Fate.
But there must be three sides out there
Whose record is not great.

Three Teams who cannot pass the ball,
Three with wobbly back four.
Three teams who’ve banged in fewer goals,
Three teams who’ve let in more.

We’re not one teeny bit concerned,
We do not fret or fuss.
We’re quite laid back, chilled out, relaxed,
There’s three teams worse than us.

But just suppose we’ve got it wrong,
There is no Threesome such.
Then we too will have to agree,
The game is truly up!

Denys E. W. Jones


Source: http://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/everton/