|

Fitball

Simon Spoor

Thursday, January 3rd, 2002

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 FITBALL!

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Fitball, fitball, aye fucking fitball.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 The kilts are out,
The tartan flags are flying.
The boys strap on their boots,
Beers are swilling,
Down many a hoarse throat.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Scotland! Scotland!!
Fuck England!
Scotland will always reign supreme
We dinnie want your fucking stuck up English Queen!

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Our royalty is out there on the pitch.
Battling again,
Different rules,
Same game.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Fitball, fitball, aye fucking fitball.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 If we cannie kick the ball,
We’ll kick the pub wall,
Bus shelter,
‘Phone box,
Or each other.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Memory is in the blood
Spilled on Scottish soil.
Running in our veins
Fitball and a potent mix of alcohol,
In our brains.

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 We’ll shout and we’ll swear
Try tae drink until we dinnie care.

10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 Fitball, fitball, aye fucking fitball.

11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 This is our remembrance day
For the dead,
The deported,
The industrial decay.
We’ll nae forget,
We’ll nae forgive.
We have a nation.
In it, we have pride.
Saint Andrew – plays for our side.

12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 You may say – It’s just a game.
Thing is, you and me.
We’re just nae the same.

13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 We’re battling on that pitch.
Battling for ancestors lying bloody
And dying in a filthy sodden ditch

14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 Fitball, fitball, aye JUST fucking fitball!

15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 ©Simon Spoor.
November 1999.

© Simon Spoor. 1999.

Notes

This was written as a homage to the ever loyal Scottish Football supporters, from an unloyal Englishman.
It was written on the afternoon of Scotland losing yet again to England. While the the bars of Aberdeen emptied
onto the streets and anything that could be, was smashed, broken and mangled, I hid in a bar and wrote poetry.
However, since that violent, day I have performed this in many places with kilt, football boots, flag and a flash
of my backside to end it!

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/fitball/