1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 An Exocet crashes neath a bar
Courtesy of a fledgling rising star
Progeny o’ Hans Christian Andersen’s wonderland
Portly partisan punters scream aghast
Having conceded one at last
Coming home, ain’t looking like the red-tops planned?

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 1 Suddenly…an O.G, a double dodgy dubious pen?
A more than able Kane, eventually prevails…again
The marauding Danes resolutely held at bay
A steely Southgate throws on an ace in guile
Forgoing a Jack oozing panache n style
To grind out a dour result, yet win the day.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Gareth’s ultimate goal, achieved,
A final reached, a nation mightily relieved
The curse of losing semi’s finally laid to rest
On Sunday evening Forza Azzurri, our foe
Past-masters in guile, stop, start, catenaccio,
Whom if we desire to be The Best? An awesome test.


Another cracking game. Though I thought England fortunate to win? T’was high time the dice landed in our favour for…a change. Gareth Southgate’s a class act, subbing sub Jack Grealish, a master-stroke in man management. Sends out a clear message…The team, and winning big games is all that matters, no matter how, or who you are, end of. Should be an ab fab final on Sunday evening. Until then? I’m off to watch a few matches o’ Dennis The Menace (tennis).

P.S. Thought Lee Dixon, last night on the mic, an absolutely blinding like.


Stay sage. Bode well.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/finally-3/