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Back Garden Football

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The heathers stood purple and proud in their bed,
Midway ‘twixt the back door and bockety shed.
The rest of the garden was concreted over,
No grass and no daisies, no broad leaf of clover.
Back and forth went the ball o’er the heathery net,
Each dodgy return being skilfully met.
“What game are you playing?” remarked Uncle Fred.
“We’re just playing heathers and volleys,” I said.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/back-garden-football/