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Boys From The Bridge

Andy Lockett

Monday, December 22nd, 2008

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Bonetti, the Cat – sleeves pushed up – that pained
Look on his face, but a keeper of stature and style.
Excepting his blunders in Leon, of course. Thence
A solid back line – Droy, Chopper Harris, steely hard;
Men not to mess with – nor was Webby. The flair and
Finesse came further forward, with Hudson. Local kid
Made good who sparked to life in midfield. Boy wonder,
Who never quite fulfilled his promise. Hollins, so tigerish;
Cooke, dribbler, dazzler. Houseman, no longer with us
Nor is Ossie, King of the Kings Road. An icon, a hero,
Number nine on his back, the showman supreme. Then
Hutch, he of the windmill throw-ins. This was Chelsea;
Raquel Welch supported them. Dickie sat in the stand,
The lads stood in the Shed and Blue was always the
Colour of those halcyon days in the swinging seventies

© Andy Lockett 2008

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/boys-from-the-bridge/