For George

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 You found your feet in Manchester,
The goal of so many Irishmen before,
But you didn’t come to cut canals,
Or lay tracks for trundling trains,
Or dig drains on mist-chilled mornings,
Or glean the wheat in autumnal shadows –
No, you scythed through hapless defences,
Navigating your own wayward paths,
Draining statuesque men of hope
As you harvested your golden field
Now in darkness at your painful passing,
But your gyrating genius will still be seen
By a thousand terraces of tearful eyes,
And the rapturous cheers will still be heard.



I wrote this poem in 2006 to commemorate the first anniversary of the death of George Best. The poem appears on a postcard which is on sale exclusively at the National Football Museum, Preston. Any income from the sale of the card is divided equally between the George Best Foundation and the museum in its charitable status.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/for-george/