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Poems tagged ‘Norwich’

As I walked out on a Bank Holiday Monday

ap staunton

Monday, March 30th, 2015

I remember, like it was yesterday,
Me, Mulraney, O’Brien, McStay,
Said “No” to triple time Bank Holiday pay,
to watch the would-be Champions, play.

“You must be mad”, said the McAlpines Clerk,
“It’s three days money, for one, you jerks. . . . ”
What did he know, that quilt from Falkirk,
theres more to life, than brickwork.

We relieved from duty, the firms big van,
packed it full of ale and site-canteen scran,
made a quick stop at a Newmarket caravan,
to pick up Mad Moran and Davey Callahan.

Then we headed over to Thetford town,
for Mr X, a man of great renown,
who six American squaddies had tried to drown,
but vengance was sweet, down the Rose and Crown.

Soon we approached, Carrow Road,
Not a ticket amongst this Scouse payload,
“We’ll just go in their end, act a la mode
and keep yer gobs shut. . . ” so off we strode.

It was the 4th of May, 1987,
if we won this match, we would be in Heaven,
League Champions, the countrys best eleven,
better for our health, than the great Nye Bevan.

But Pat Van den Hauwe, scored, after a minute,
and our hugging and kissing was indescrimate
so of course, Norwich weren’t havin’ it,
but the League was waiting, for us to win it.

The police removed us, from Their End, to Ours,
and the watching Canaries looked upon our scars,
as if we had landed in Norwich from Mars,
a strange language of “Tell me Ma’s, me Ma’s”

We were greeted, by the Everton throng,
who to a man, burst into song,
I saw Martin, who was Steelfixing in Hong Kong,
and Ste Collier, who was coaching out in Woollongong.

After the match, we drank and shared the kitty,
with Norwich lads, who thought our repartee, witty,
and them in sixth place, sitting pretty,
though we’d won the League, we’d lost our city.

Merseysiders, spread out, miles from home,
Thatcher’d cut us, to the bone,
Norman Tebbits “On yer bike” syndrome,
Cambridge, New York, Eastbourne, Stockholm.

In strange Cities, only our team,
can remind us of, our parents dream,
nothing preposterous, just faith, supreme
in a living wage and self esteem.

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