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Poems tagged ‘Everton’

Where There’s Life There’s Hope

We’re not very consistent,
We win, we lose, we draw.
The only thing that’s certain is
We’re never true to form.

The other night at Turf Moor,
We somehow lost three-two.
Yet next home game at Goodison,
Contrived to beat Man U!

We’re like some punch-drunk boxer,
Knocked back against the ropes,
The Drop is a real prospect,
Survival a slim hope.

No-one can tell what lies ahead,
Not even Nostradamus.
The only thing that can be said is:
“Dum spiramus speramus.”

10/4/22
Denys E. W. Jones

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Frankie Lampard’s Blue and White Army

We’re good at sacking gaffers,
We are not very nice.
Just ask Martinez, Silva,
Ron Koeman, Allardyce.

And then there’s that Benitez,
The latest casualtee.
But he was just one big mistake,
For him no tears we’ll weep.

A new man’s in the hotseat,
His name is Lampard Frank.
He did quite well at Derby,
From Chelsea got the sack.

But we’re sure he’s the right choice,
We bid him welcome warm.
He’ll set our ship on even keel,
And steer us through the storm.

Nil Satis Nisi Optimum?
No problem for this guy.
He got A Star in Latin,
He knows that we aim high.

He could have gone to Hollywood,
He’s come to Merseyside.
So forza Frankie, don’t relax,
Work hard, arrest our slide.

31/1/22
Denys E. W. Jones

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Rafa – sacked and not backed.

Oh no
Not again
Rafa sacked
And never
Backed
Everton,
The club
Once known
As the Bank
Of England
Give their
Marching orders
To the man
Who used to
Be, Rafa, the
Gentleman with
The bank
Manager aura
But surely not
From Santander
Rafa, immaculately
Dressed in formal
Waistcoat
But not ready
For his customers
Not now given
The opportunity
For yet more
Emotional investments
Bankrupt of support
Robbed of capital
Since Everton are
Now back at
The drawing board
Square one
After early blossom
Time in the autumn
Of the season
Now Rafa Benitez
Victim of circumstances
Where once Howard
Kendall, Joe Royle,
Gordon Lee and the
Stern and solemn
Countenance of fear
Drained, but not
Without care
Then Harry Catterick
Achieved the impossible
Sadly though
Never reacting to
League Championships
From many moons
Ago, so the
Toffees had to chew
On something much
Sweeter
When Harvey, Ball
And Kendall were
Pulling strings of
The blue symphony
Of life and a
Cabaret of colour
And virile vitality
But Rafa has left
Via the tradesman’s
Entrance where once
Trod Carlo Ancelotti
Goodison livid, furious
Revolting, uproar
From the other
Side of Merseyside
Where noisy neighbours
Liverpool are still strutting,
Flouncing, serial winners
Of the Premier League
And the old First Division,
Everton were the team
Who might have been
Even if Rafa thought
He could be the
Spanish revolutionary
Who privately believed
He could turn blue
To golden moments
In the sun
Victorious again
But alas not.
So where do
The Goodison
Park residents
Association
Go from here
Do they appoint
Some legendary
Name from the past
To salvage their
Season
Or simply go
Around in
In ever- increasing
Circles taking
Consolation in Harry
Catterick or Howard
Kendall for they were
Witnesses to the
Sparking jewellery
Of cups and trophies
But Everton are in
Muddied waters
Sliding down tables
Of greasy, oily
Decline, surely
Not relegation
It’s unheard of
In the charismatic
Corridors of
Goodison where
Once Bracewell,
Sheedy and Reid
Waved the baton
And led the band
With decorative
Flourishes and
Goals galore
Sadly Everton
Are now stilled,
Silenced, wandering
Around in trances
Of grey
Rafa the first
To join
The managerial
Sacking race
Rafa Benitez
We wish him
Well
But you were
Just the latest
Who never quite
Met the criteria
Of the Premier
League standard
That demanded
Much more
Than you were
Ever capable of
Farewell Rafa
But we’ll see you
Again, sooner
Rather than later
Surely

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The BBC hoped for an Upset

The BBC hoped for an upset,
They showed the match live on TV.
But when Kevin Friend blew for full-time,
The losers were HCFC.

The Tigers they sure made a bright start,
They scored after forty-five secs.
But Everton were not downhearted,
Demarai Gray soon found the Net.

Now Anthony Gordon’s a livewire,
He’s one of our favourite sons.
He linked up just perfect with Kenny,
To let Gomes make it two-one.

The Tigers refused to surrender,
They fought back with tooth and with claw.
Roared on by their raucous supporters,
Before long they’d levelled the score.

No replay, so extra time needed,
We feared it might go to Spot-kicks.
But then came a beauty from Townsend,
Once more our Andros did the trick.

Some Toffee fans can’t stand Benitez,
They’re hoping that he’ll get the sack.
But he’s got us into the fourth round,
So why don’t we get off his back?

Some say in the next tie we’ll crash out,
Some say that we’re bound for Wemblee.
But one thing we Bluenoses all know:
It’s high time we won a Trophee.

So, bring back, bring back,
Bring back that Cup from Wemblee, Wemblee.
Bring back, bring back,
Oh, bring back that Pot to GP!

10/1/22
Denys E. W. Jones

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TG Jones

Who was the greatest player that Stanley Matthews ever saw?
Cymru’s TG Jones.

Who was the greatest player that Dixie Dean ever saw?
Everton’s TG Jones.

Who was the greatest player that Tommy Lawton ever saw?
Wrexham’s TG Jones.

Who was the greatest player that Joe Mercer ever saw?
Connah’s Quay’s TG Jones.

He didn’t have a name like Beckenbauer, Watson or Labone,
Yobo, Yerry, Keane, or Keown or Pistone.
Just simply TG (Tommy) Jones.

You know he would have played for AS Rome,
But money regulations kept him at home,
And in 1950 he decamped to Pwllheli’s holiday zone.

As Bangor City’s manager he beat Napoli at home,
After having established his home town’s genome.
Then ‘twas home is the Nomad, from the School of Science home.

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When We Were Losing One-Nil

When we were losing one-nil,
I thought our Cause was lost.
The trapdoor was wide open,
We seemed doomed to the Drop.

When we were trailing one-nil,
I heard a wise man say:
“My son, you know you really ought
To have a little Faith.

The match lasts ninety minutes,
The game ain’t over yet,
There’s loads of time for us to put
That ball into their net.”

The words that wise man spoke were true,
As true as true can be.
But we had gone one goal down,
No use to talk to me.

When we had made it one-one,
(A goal off Richie’s head),
I thought: ”Let’s settle for the point,
Now we’re back from the dead.”

Once more when scores were level,
I heard that wise man say:
“I told you so, perhaps now you
Can see of hope some ray.”

With three and ninety minutes gone,
Up stepped a lad named Gray –
A rocket fired in off the post,
That we’ll recall for aye.

Few seconds left now on the clock,
The wise man sat and beamed.
He looked just like the fabled cat
That gobbled up the cream.

And then the full-time whistle blew,
We headed towards home.
‘Twas raining hard, but we were warmed
By Vict’ry’s afterglow.

I munched my full-time Mars Bar,
And boy, did it taste sweet!
For WE’d been losing one-nil,
But two-one THEY got beat!

9/12/21
Denys E. W.Jones

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Bent on Revenge

We last clashed ten long months ago,
On Liverpool’s own turf.
And on that day, the whole world knows,
We Toffees proved our worth.

Two goals scored by the Boys in Blue,
While from the Reds not one.
So when the final whistle blew,
‘Twas clear to all – we’d won!

A monkey shaken off our backs,
A hoodoo exorcised,
It’s such a shame the pubs were shut,
But we got drunk on pride.

All that’s now ancient history,
We face a challenge new:
Another visit from the Reds,
Who mean to die or do.

That lot aren’t used to losing,
It’s really not their style.
Their Trophy Room is full of pots,
Ahead of us by miles.

That loss at Anfield must have hurt,
Their pride was truly dented.
No greater shame have any felt
Since football was invented.

They want to get their own back,
Of that we’re well aware.
The Reds are hellbent on Revenge,
Beware! Beware! Beware!

28/11/21
Denys E. W. Jones

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My Mersey

Merchant ship cranes
unloading their grain
Confederate ships built at Cammell Lairds
opposite sits the Liver Birds

Ferries glide across the Mersey
supporters wear their red or blue jerseys
high above the Albert dock
cathedral bells peal over their flocks

The world’s greatest seafaring city
land of the Beatles and birth of the sixties
today’s excitement is its calm reflection
designer walks and regeneration

New Brighton to Seacombe a fair old stride
a pint at Egremont by the tide
Fort Perch Rock out to Liverpool Bay
to the west, West Kirby and old Hoylake

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Addio Carlo

We all thought he was potty
When he came to Everton.
Now Carlo Ancelotti
Has gone and done a bunk.

He’s upped and left for Real Madrid,
World-famous Club, so very big.
Much greater than our Everton,
Who trophies never win.

We understand him perfectly,
We will not rage or rant.
Yet find this sudden exit
Not very elegant.

At first he was magnifico,
Then gold turned all to dross.
He’s booked his flight for Sunny Spain?
It’s really no great loss.

2/6/21
Denys E. W. Jones

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Ciao Ancelotti

No more the raised eyebrow
The gestures along the touchline
The Corleone growls of despair
And now the sands of Crosby silent
Beneath the gaze of the Gormley statues
More permanent than contracts,
The toffee lady’s kippered heart
Unpicks this summer fling.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/everton/page/4/