Bags I be Bestie

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 “Bags I be Bestie!” the cry would resound,
As impromptu goalposts were flung on the ground.
And twenty young lads would chase after the ball
Without much positional foresight at all.
And Greavesie and Hurley would go chin to chin
Over whether the ball hit the post or went in.
But Bestie would show what the game was about,
Swiv’lling those hips with his shirt hanging out,
Actually hearing the thund’ring acclaim
Reserved for the few who had mastered the game.
For Charlton piledrivers showed consummate skill,
But rounding poor Banksie was more of a thrill,
And even your Mam was aware of George Best,
The long-haired magician who always impressed,
Selling the dummy with effortless ease,
A drop of the shoulder and shake of the knees.
And then the bell sounded, like shattering glass,
And red-faced and sweaty we trooped back to class.
Oh, wonderful times that flew by in a blur,
Bags I be Bestie – but none of us were.



Thanks George

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/bags-i-be-bestie/