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Epiphany in Park Lane.

kevin raymond

Friday, February 5th, 2021

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 En route to Kensal Rise, via Stamford Bridge,
At behest of the quare one, and Sean’s kids
His hearse purred to a halt at The Bovril Gate
We clambered out, sparked a pensive smoke
Reminiscing a, you had to have been there, sepia joke,
Blinding times, shared in The Shed with our old mate.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Declan produced a silver flask
Raised, as a roaring double decker passed,
His toast to absent friends, drowned in its wake
Couple over on a pilgrimage from Japan
Shared our china’s grief on Instagram
Quicker than a spieling tout moves on the make.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 In the hired jam-jar, Van The Man
Touched our hearts as well he can
Gliding through a doleful, Carrickfergus
The quare one looked across at me
Pulling away from Sean’s beloved CFC
To softly sing in tearful poignant verse.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 A stark and eerie Fulham Road
Glistening pavements we had strode
Queuing up all night for tickets in the rain
Seemed to know of Sean’s demise
Set of temporary traffic lights
Stayed steadfast on Go, and didn’t change.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Our jam-jar passed South Ken
Declan’s flask appeared again
A sombre mood prevailed outside The V&A
Stopping opposite Harrods in a jam
Celery and blue carnations close at hand
Passer’s by, bowed heads, or stared at us amazed.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Through howling wind, incessant rain
We aquaplaned Park Lane, Park Lane!
Which reminds me? Strewth! I’ve nothing else to say
Sorry…I can’t continue this tale of abject woe
After gleefully witnessing the antics of Mourinho
Alongside, his teams confusing lack-lustre display.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 See…our china, Sean, might be brown bread
But as he often said, stood in The Shed,
“Ain’t nothing matters…long as we do well at Spurs away”.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Peace.

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 Stay sage. Bode well.

Notes

There are two references to Park Lane, in this latest (sob) tale of (sob) woe. One in Mayfair, in London’s West-End, and the other (sob)? Over in the wilds of N.17 (is that a pop group?) near White Hart Lane. Don’t need, or care to know the name of the current Spurs ground, simply coz it doesn’t interest me, in all honesty. Kensal Rise. North West London cemetery. Bovril Gate. Pre-match rendezvous, entrance to Eden, Stamford Bridge. The Shed. Nirvana, our late, oft lamented stand. Once deemed the closest thing to Heaven on Earth, in South West London, on a Saturday afternoon, lug-oles (ears) being gently caressed by The Liquidator, as the chaps took to the field. Spieling. Yiddish for incessant yapping. Jam-jar. Rhyming slang for car. Van The Man. Van Morrison, whose beautiful rendition of Carrickfergus, is often requested at London-Irish funerals. China…plate. Rhyming slang for mate. Brown bread. Rhyming slang for dead. Celery. Talisman, illicit vegetable, banned at our ground.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/epiphany-in-park-lane/