As I walked out on a Bank Holiday Monday

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 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.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 “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.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 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.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 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.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 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.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 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.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 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.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 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”

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 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.

10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 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.

11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 Merseysiders, spread out, miles from home,
Thatcher’d cut us, to the bone,
Norman Tebbits “On yer bike” syndrome,
Cambridge, New York, Eastbourne, Stockholm.

12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 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.



Many thanks to SB Ingle, who reminded me of Norwich. Iwas so jealous
that their supporters could live and work in their city, and we came
from everywhere to watch that match. Not displaced voluntary

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/as-i-walked-out-on-a-bank-holiday-monday/