1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Jimmy Greaves is his name
He played the beautiful game.
Didn’t really like to run
But scored goals for fun.
Greavsie on my bedroom wall
Kicking a muddy leather ball.
Watched him as a lad
From the terraces with my dad.
He hardly broke a sweat
But stuck three into our net.
Watching him was a treat
Because he had quicksilver feet.
My son says was he any good
The best from your boyhood ?
Son. Greavsie was the best around
Tormenting defences at every ground.
Jimmy was number one in his prime
My favourite player of all time !



You know when you go and watch your hero, and it ends up in disapointment ? Well, I saw jimmy twice at our place, and he was magic !
No fuss, just bang bang, job done, standing ovation from both sets of fans at the end.
I met him once, long after he had stopped playing, I was all excited, and told him he was the best, but he laughed it off, in his humorous way, a really top bloke, as well as a great footballer.

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