Curtain Call
¶ 1
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Near silent grounds, though the stadiums are full.
The atmosphere of old, I think they’re out to cull.
Corporate boxes and suites, the way they want to go.
They within many a fans budget, I hardly think so!
A vibrant Spion Kop, a noisy Stretford End of old.
Is what we need today, no matter what we’re told.
Through the turnstile early, cash of course in hand.
Find your ‘spec’ and keep it, the only place to stand!
No fancy concourse then, a little snack bar did the trick.
Now it’s like a high street, every box they want to tick.
We all want match safety and a freedom of choice for all.
But grounds are becoming theatres, just add a curtain call.
I will support any action for standing to make a return.
Every lesson has been dealt with, that there was to learn.
I’ve tagged this poem as “Nostalgia” but wish I didn’t have to.