England’s Shame

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Devouring scampi at Dirty Duck
with pint of Speckled Hen,
we thought that we would try our luck
and watch the England game.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Recent rain had washed the streets
and teeming paths of Stratford.
A fair checked out by local teens,
their brief report: not good.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 First pub we tried, no Sky dish there,
the barman’s face quite quizzical.
No matter, we would go elsewhere,
but would have to run, get physical.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Still no joy at ten past six,
our total now five inns;
wond’ring where we’d get our fix
to see an England win.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Realisation began to dawn on us:
there were no satellite dishes.
Heads down, we went back to the Duck,
though this was against our wishes.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Sitting in the theatre, way up in the Gods,
text message came from watching friend:
“we’re 2 nil down, the clots!”
The game is at an end.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 Friend’s report went on to say
that Robbo’d made a rick,
bobbling back pass made us pay
enough to make us sick.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 So the savage Caliban
not the only one in shackles.
England’s players also rans,
not winning any tackles.

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 The jury’s out on new boss Steve,
merely Sven’s apprentice.
I for one hope he’ll leave;
he won’t be sorely missed.


Along with a friend we planned to watch the first half of the England v Croatia match in one of Stratford’s many pubs before the RSC’s production of ‘The Tempest’. No luck! What would England’s finest writer have had to say if he’d found out the inhabitants of his home town were unable to watch their national team?! Didn’t miss much anyway!!

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/englands-shame/