Football grounds

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 There was a time at White Hart Lane
When those who thought they’d endured enough pain
But then came the Double
Which quelled the trouble
Back in yesterday’s when
They gathered in force again

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Rival in survival
With North London foes
Then stepped on toes
Of Arsenal across the road
That less than amiable abode
Then Highbury yearned for
Trophies and titles galore
Without resorting to the goal-less bore

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Marbled halls and historic  clocks,
Perfectly suited to stylish socks
Mud caked boots
And elegant suits Gooners once and all
Classic exponents with medicine ball
Then Wenger stood Imperious and tall
At Stamford Bridge where Chelsea remain perched
On the ridge of more
Cups and trophies not another set of selfies
But you remember the sand and mud
Of yesteryear’s thud and crunch
That motley bunch
Chopper Harris, Cooke, Wilkins
Osgood and Hutchinson
In charge of their manor
When the mood of the banner
Was Blue is the colour
We once again discover
Chelsea remain the same name
Never plain just vigorous glorious, aflame

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 So finally West Ham never a sham
Upton Park, a cathedral of good
Across the babbling brook next to the wood
Down country lanes Where hope never wanes
Upton Park, that East End Fringe theatre
Where everything seemed  much better
When the Chicken Run was so much fun
And we were taught
The rudiments of football’s
Innocent age the game became
Beige but then changed
Upton Park would never become
Dark, for the lights
Shone on claret and blue,
Teasing, then the bubbles flew
Among soaring rooftops
Over commerce and shops
Where the East End display
Their splendid array
From football’s tastiest menu
And then when we all said see you
In 2016 when the old
Had broken the mould
What taste, what a waste
The old ground we seemed to leave
With too much haste
Our soul may have hankered. For yet another tankard

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 But Upton Park
Simply said, never
In a million years
When the Boleyn was
In tears of joy and elation
Near East Ham Station

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 So London’s grounds
Across hills and mounds
Where you can still hear
The distant sounds  of shuffling men,
Who from the old Den
From the daily grind
Never a bind
Loyal to the cause,
Grounds where Eagles
Once we treasured
Rapturous applause
Without pause



My take on football grounds.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/football-grounds/