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I didn’t get to on the day

Stephen A Owen

Saturday, January 17th, 2004

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 i was about eight years old
the shouting and swearing was deafening and loud
“ref you f..ng this”
“ref you stupid that”
“whats goin on”
“what you playin at”
even though i could hardly see
the atmosphere and being there was total ecstasy
could hardly see the game
joining in as the Kop called out each name
with a clap and a cheer when you don’t feel no fear
when you`re eight years old you deffinately need a chair

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 at half time we went to the loo
a cup of bovril
a sausage roll maybe too
then we made our way back to watch the rest of the game
finding where you were was never the same
then he always got to standing in your way
the man about eight foot tall with a head of hair the same
moved to the left
moved to the right
no matter where i stood
was never ever alright
so i sat on the step where i stood
waited for the crowd to flood
then with an almighty scream
GOALLLLLLLL
yeah we`d created the scene

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 full time we`d beat Forest three nil
time to go home it was brill
“ere we go,ere we go” the crowd sing so loud
cant wait to get home out of this crowd

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 on the bus it was packed
red supporters in fact
reading the programme
looking out the window
on the journey home
the bus always went slow

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 then watching the game on Match of the Day
i enjoyed it more`cos i didn`t get to on the day
looking for myself in the crowd
my ears still banging from the noise so loud..

© Stephen A Owen

Notes

Always remember being to small to see anything,so frustrating tin them days..

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/i-didnt-get-to-on-the-day/