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Confessions of a Lily Liver

Peter Goulding

Friday, January 16th, 2004

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 McAteer scored,
And, all alone at home, I roared,
As the ten men went ahead against the Dutch.
Every game I fear the worst,
Expect the bubble soon to burst,
And, for me, this was a little bit too much.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Now, my heavy, rhythmic heart
Had been a-pounding from the start,
But now, with that great goal, it started racing.
Though we had a goal in hand,
There was no way I could stand
The half an hour or so that we were facing.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 So I nimbly set the tape,
And made a cowardly escape
Out onto the bare, deserted street.
And I paced the road alone,
With knuckles chewed down to the bone,
And not a single person did I meet.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Round and round the block I walked,
As each second was uncorked,
And I calculated minutes left to play.
And when full time had been reached,
From nearby houses people screeched,
And then I knew the match had gone our way.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 My wife and son and daughter
Claim I’m not a true supporter,
And I’m the one they always throw the book at.
It’s a little bit simplistic
Just to state I’m pessimistic,
But there’s certain games I just can’t bear to look at.

© Peter Goulding 16th January 2004

Notes

Two years previously, when we playing Croatia I stuck it out till the 85th minute, then went walkabout, telling my wife to call me when it was over. The call never came. Sukor scored in the 94th minute, and she was so distraught she forgot about me.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/confessions-of-a-lily-liver/