Football Poets

Football Quiz Nite Down The Pub.

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 It’s football quiz night down the pub,
in which year did England,
introduce the sub?
These are the questions,
players will face,
will they earn some street cred,
or find disgrace.

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The four contestants,
are raring to go,
to raise their hands up,
they can’t be slow.
There’s Charles the student,
with his scarf and glasses,
Bill the stat man,
who counts shots and passes.
George McPhee, who hails from Fife,
and hen pecked Steve,
hiding from the wife.

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Bob the landlord,
reads the first question aloud,
“what football match had the record crowd?”
“1950 in Brazil,
over two hundred thousand,”
shouts out Bill.
“Point to Bill,
let’s carry on,
who in football,
was called ‘The Don’?
No whispering answers,
you lot at the back,
if you want a clue,
he played in attack.”

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 “Don Rogers of Palace,
is ‘The Don’ I know,”
“Well done Charles,
ten more to go.

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Four teams in the league,
whose name ends in ‘ E ‘?
Please don’t answer,
if you’ve only three.”
Bill puts his hand up,
and says with a smile,
“Crystal PalacE and Plymouth ArgylE.”
“You didn’t listen,
I said I need them all,
you were much too quick,
for those names to call.
There are two more,
please don’t fail,”
and Charles jumps up,
and shouts “Port ValE.”
“Well done Charles,
but now the boys have three,
so it’s up to you Steve,
and George McPhee.”
Steve’s deep in thought,
as he sips on his ale,
brain working overtime,
till it reached Roch -dalE.
“Rochdale,” he shouted,
where I first met ‘er indoors,
I should have gone instead,
to the Yorkshire Moors.”
“Okay Steve, let’s not get personal,
who in 1970 managed Arsenal?”
They were all deep in thought,
as if in a trance,
as they worked their way back,
from the man from France.
“Your time is up lads,
I’m going to ask McPhee,
who caught unawares, asked,
“do you mean — me?”
“Great stuff George,
don’t sound surprized,
Bertie Mee managed, that great Arsenal side.

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 A letter in the alphabet,
that only one team has got?
It could be an English team,
Welsh or Scot.
They tried for X —- Z and Q,
but finally they gave up,
cos none of ’em knew.
“The answer is Saint Johnstone,
and the letter it is ‘ J ‘ ”
said Bob to the players,
and the crowds dismay.
“Last English manager,
to win the Prem,
no one gets this answer,
the question is a gem.”
Stevie answered Wilko,
but the answer it was not,
and Bill thought it was Fergie,
but was informed that he’s a Scot.
All four contestants,
reluctantly threw in the towel,
and Bob the questionnaire,
let out a mighty howl.

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 “I knew no one would get it,
and the answer makes me sick,
‘cos no Englishman has won the Prem,
the question was a trick.”

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 After the final question,
all four are tied at three,
now it’s time for a fast pint,
and dash for a quick pee.
Cos Bob had a tie breaker,
to see who knew the most,
so the winner could sit down in the pub,
and his football knowledge boast.

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 “Right then lads,
may the best man win,
no conversing with the crowd,
and remember folks that Monday night,
we have them poet blokes from Stroud.

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 “The midfield ‘School of Science,’
I know the name was un – official,
but I want you to give their surnames,
and their first names first initial,”

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 “Charlton, Law and Best,” said Bill,
“I know the answer’s in that vicinity,”
“No you silly fool,” laughed Bob,
“that’s United’s ‘Holy Trinity’.”
“S. Heighway and B. Hall,” said Charles,
“I heard both, were better players than Rooney.”
“They were the school of nowt,” growled Bob,
“they were famed for going to Uni”.
“Cunningham, Regis, Batson,”
was the answer of McPhee’s,
“no,” said Bob, “you’re well off there,
they were West Brom’s ‘Three Degrees.’

¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 It’s up to you now Steve,” said Bob,
as the pub punters roared him on,
and he came up with Colin Harvey,
and H. Kendall of Ever — ton.
Steve knew their was a third one,
his brain straining at the test,
as he went through that Evertonian team,
starting with goalie Gordon West.

¶ 13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 But suddenly the pub door burst open,
and in stormed Stevie’s missus,
and she wasn’t there to declare her love,
nor shower his face with kisses.
“If it isn’t bloody football,
it’s cricket, darts or pool,
I’m up at six each morning,
to bring our kids to school.”

¶ 14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 But the only school in Stevie’s thoughts,
was the Evertonian School of Science,
and he ignored his wife,
and went deep in thought,
in a clear act of defiance.

¶ 15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 “I’m at home with the kids,
you don’t even think to call,
I’m watching Corrie on my own,
while you’re having A — Ball.

¶ 16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 “A Ball,” cried Steve coming out of thought,
and the pub all raised a cheer,
and at that moment what he’d said,
to him became quite clear.
“Well done,” said Bob,
“you got it right,
Kendall, Harvey, Alan Ball,
you win a nights free drinking,
of your favourite tipple Skol.”

¶ 17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 “Oh no he’s not, he had his fun,
he’s coming home for grub,”
as Stevie’s wife dragged him out the door,
to end another quiz nite down the pub.