Football Poets

25 Years of Attila On The Mike!

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 25 Years of Attila on the mike*

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 head-space in your face what is he like!

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 rock gigs cafes the unis and the squats

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 anti-fascist youth centres festivals the lot

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 he’s a social ‘ institution’ but not for the Queen

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 sure is the loudest fan Brighton’s ever seen

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 free-thinking beer-drinking gigging all the time

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 like fuel to the fire or a fag in your wine?

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 he’s The Clash meets Belloc in an alley in the dark

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 or Max Wall ranting with John Cooper Clark

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 if you ask him for another he always says yes

¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 he’s given more benefits than DHSS

¶ 13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 never sold out when the going got fluffy

¶ 14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 hates straight poets getting arty and stuffy

¶ 15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 he booked me once but he laid down the facts

¶ 16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 ” I bloody hate drum machines and hippy type sax”

¶ 17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 political and critical committed to the cause

¶ 18 Leave a comment on verse 18 0 throws out lines like nets along the shores

¶ 19 Leave a comment on verse 19 0 he’s a peace-gladiator leaping into the crowd

¶ 20 Leave a comment on verse 20 0 he never pussy-foots an’ he scats out loud

¶ 21 Leave a comment on verse 21 0 if you meet him at a gig he’s all thoughtful and placid

¶ 22 Leave a comment on verse 22 0 but when he’s out-front he’s Darth Vader on acid

¶ 23 Leave a comment on verse 23 0 he’s a neo-weird surrealist he’s done stuff live

¶ 24 Leave a comment on verse 24 0 from Hove to Albania and every down-dive

¶ 25 Leave a comment on verse 25 0 Australia New Zealand down in Rumania

¶ 26 Leave a comment on verse 26 0 Ireland The Netherlands and up in Scandinavia

¶ 27 Leave a comment on verse 27 0 in Germany and Austria he blew them all away

¶ 28 Leave a comment on verse 28 0 I wish I’d seen him gigging in the US of A!

¶ 29 Leave a comment on verse 29 0 he’s comin’ from the heart but he’s darker than The Joker

¶ 30 Leave a comment on verse 30 0 thank god there’s only one Attila The Stockbroker

¶ 31 Leave a comment on verse 31 0 now he rants like a rapper from the stage or the stand

¶ 32 Leave a comment on verse 32 0 got words like steam an’ a pint in his hand

¶ 33 Leave a comment on verse 33 0 he’s a post-punk poet with a cynical name

¶ 34 Leave a comment on verse 34 0 but he stamps his presence like a striker in a game

¶ 35 Leave a comment on verse 35 0 he’s a rebel-man survivor got total control

¶ 36 Leave a comment on verse 36 0 when the crap hits the fan he’s got rhymes full o’ soul

¶ 37 Leave a comment on verse 37 0 he’s a mean violinist and he plays that guitar

¶ 38 Leave a comment on verse 38 0 like a household appliance but he’s never been a star

¶ 39 Leave a comment on verse 39 0 got the passion of a lion in a pantomime

¶ 40 Leave a comment on verse 40 0 but he stuck to his views like a blues man cryin’

¶ 41 Leave a comment on verse 41 0 twenty five years been honing his craft

¶ 42 Leave a comment on verse 42 0 some say he’s arrogant some say he’s daft

¶ 43 Leave a comment on verse 43 0 some say he’s angry thank god he is

¶ 44 Leave a comment on verse 44 0 thank god he’s never been Mister Showbiz

¶ 45 Leave a comment on verse 45 0 surprise surprise I ain’t talking bout Cilla

¶ 46 Leave a comment on verse 46 0 talking ’bout the man and I’m talkin’ bout Attila

¶ 47 Leave a comment on verse 47 0 now back in the eighties he was out on his own

¶ 48 Leave a comment on verse 48 0 reaching them places other poets don’t show in

¶ 49 Leave a comment on verse 49 0 racism – fascism – hate all around

¶ 50 Leave a comment on verse 50 0 nothing phased Attilla he was strutting over-ground

¶ 51 Leave a comment on verse 51 0 soaked up the anger from the bigots in the land

¶ 52 Leave a comment on verse 52 0 built up a fan-base right across the land

¶ 53 Leave a comment on verse 53 0 got balls of steels got a heart of stone

¶ 54 Leave a comment on verse 54 0 from Southwick to Glaston’bry out on his own

¶ 55 Leave a comment on verse 55 0 yelling out verses like a trader on a stall

¶ 56 Leave a comment on verse 56 0 he’s an MC DJ an’ he lives football

¶ 57 Leave a comment on verse 57 0 and when they start to heckle shoutin’ ” what are you on?”

¶ 58 Leave a comment on verse 58 0 never bats an eye he just blasts on strong

¶ 59 Leave a comment on verse 59 0 the guys’ no Laureate he gives it his best

¶ 60 Leave a comment on verse 60 0 but he sure looks macho in his trusty Brighton vest

¶ 61 Leave a comment on verse 61 0 never thought they’d ever ‘twig’ what he stood for

¶ 62 Leave a comment on verse 62 0 down in the preciousness of Radio Four

¶ 63 Leave a comment on verse 63 0 but he’s the man – the main man

¶ 64 Leave a comment on verse 64 0 and he sure ain’t on no forty-five grand

¶ 65 Leave a comment on verse 65 0 ’cause he’s loud he’s in charge

¶ 66 Leave a comment on verse 66 0 been giving it and living it large

¶ 67 Leave a comment on verse 67 0 and he’s here he’s like beer

¶ 68 Leave a comment on verse 68 0 or a brew that gets stronger every year

¶ 69 Leave a comment on verse 69 0 an’ he’s stuck to his art like a tube of Polyfilla

¶ 70 Leave a comment on verse 70 0 but I’m still really grateful there’s only one Attila!***