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Germ Warfare

Paul Rose

Sunday, April 7th, 2002

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Germ Warfare

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 What do they put in Football pies,
Pieces of horse and dead dogs eyes,
Industrial gristle in a swarfega mix,
Spitting Chef’s up to his usual tricks,
Juicy Pig’s genitals and dead flies,
It tastes terrible, well what a surprise,
With Cardboard crusts that self implode,
All topped off with a layer of mould,
Served lukewarm in a piece of tin,
One mouthful then straight in the bin

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 In terracing days they were fun you see,
A weapon that could make grown men flee,
A missile shaped pie covered in peas,
Flew through the air with the greatest of ease,
Towards the away end in a high curving arc,
A heat seeking missile coming out of the dark,
A howling scream as a victim was struck,
His next door neighbour blessing his luck,
A long journey home with a ruined coat,
Covered in dog, horse, kitten and goat

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Alas, Lord Taylors’ seating has ended our fun,
As now finding the culprit is easily done,
So now no more festering crusts of disease,
A Mars bar, some crisps, and lukewarm tea please.

Notes

Poem originally submitted for publication in “Football: Pure Poetry”, and stemmed from a conversation with catering staff who advised that some years ago the storage of pies from the end of one season to the start of the next was commonplace. Often mould and general detritus was scraped from the crust prior to re-heating for the first match of the season. Beware for August 2002 and Bon Appetit !!

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/germ-warfare/