Sat on a train in North London
On me way home from watching the chaps
Looked up shocked as these two well spoken young ones
Re-lived the buzz of this fight at “The Match”.
With accents a good school had fashioned
In clothes maybe cost a weeks wage
They never once mentioned the thrills or the action
Their faces contorted in rage.
Spoke of a tear-up at Selhurst
The hoodlums, the crews and the fights
Kinda weird to hear such an out of place outburst
From two middle class boys so polite.
Knew every crew, the who’s fighting with who
The rows that they’d seen at what match
T’was like I was back in the days of the zoo
Amongst terraced animals primed to attack.
Is it cool to turn up at “The Football”
Of a Saturday with the sole aim to fight?
If it is then please God save us all
From the public schooled yob and his like.
Amazed I kept listening and hearing
About West Country teams and fierce brawls
As I got off at my stop, what was sickening was?
Those middle class mockneys….
Never uttered a word on “The Football”.