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Poems tagged ‘School football. Nostalgia. Austerity. London-Irish humor.’

Selfless Sister Act.

kevin raymond

Friday, October 21st, 2022

Ah, those Clapham Common morning games
Getting stuck in…to likewise puny frames
A crunching tackle, deemed bravado, sport or fun
The restraint a combatant need show
To dealing a fitter young fella…The Elbow
Under the suspicious eye, of our school lino…A Nun.

A mix of shabby blue shirts in different sizes,
A.N Other name-tags, fading colours, no disguise
To beetroot faces, being frowned upon midst game?
A match of contradictions, our threadbare shirts
(Trust me, the ridicule suffered hurts)
Opponents slyly sniggering at our out-fits in distain

Ah well…appointing (a dreamer) to guard the posts
(An accident waiting to happen as the saying goes?)
A good looking young fella…his head up in the clouds
Our grateful opponents, storming on the attack
Might often face the number one, on Declan’s back
Or see him chat to a pretty young thing in the crowds?

When a fraught half-time (and the oranges) came
In shall we say…a highly competitive (bruising) game?
A red-faced Sister Clare was not a happy bun,
“Declan! What the flaming hell are you trying to do?
We’re four-two down, no thanks to you
Watch the game, instead a chatting up that young-one”.

“Ah sure sister…what’s a young fella to do?
I was only asking, whereabouts she goes to school?
Where she lives, her local church, that kind a thing?”,
“Is that so? Sure, you can do all a that after the game
Declan get out there, and if the score remains the same?
You’ll have detention all next week, I’ll keep you in”.

“What the…! A whole week’s detention Sister Clare,
For chatting to a young one? Jaysus, that ain’t fare?
We was only having the craic, not committing a cardinal sin”,
“Declan! I’ll trust you, not to take The Almighty’s name in vain
Now get your derriere in gear, concentrate on the game
I’ve fifty quid, belonging to the school poor-box, on us to win”…

I dedicate this poem to every one o’ my fellow players,
The Sisters, at St Vincent’s De Paul’s…for all their prayers
At a time our parents couldn’t afford to buy us football strips
But most of all? I’m much obliged to a dreamer keeping goal,
A nun done took a punt…won a convent school a load of dough,
and huge respect…when next…those new kits of ours graced a pitch.

Peace. Kev.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/school-football-nostalgia-austerity-london-irish-humor/