Inner City Youth.

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Inner city stadia that never closed their gates
Was where I spent me childhood, getting skillful with me mates
No mum, no dad, no getting mad, if tricks failed to come off
The next time that I get a pass, it’s me who’ll get to cross

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Our road ran down to ‘Father Thames’, no-one had a a car
Our Wemberly was in the street, underneath the stars
We’d Yashin, Edwards, Pele, Haynes, Jimmy Greaves et al
In the street, imagination’s all you need to gel

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Rebounds off a lamp-post, passes from a kerb
“Sticking one past Harry Gregg, that kid has got some nerve”
“It’s Blunstone going on to score, he’s just made it two nil”
When the street lights shine down on yer game
Who cares whose boots you fill?

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Who said that could not be done, or don’t you dare try this
We’d pit our tricks against other kids with body swerves and twists
Our brains were sharpened on that tar, those matches lit our health
When you’re out there it’s one v one and thinking for yourself

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Each pass you gave, great saves you made
Were all part of ‘growing up’
In those times of adolescent dreams
That you’d, one day, win the cup?

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Yer shoes were scuffed, but not enough
To keep you from the game
That meant that you turned up each time
What ever weather came

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 When yer ma or da made half time breaks
For your dinner or your tea
T’was amazing how long eating takes
When there’s soul food in the street

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 All were welcome in our games, rush goalie if you like
All our teams had made up names, a new one every night
No-one owned a football shirt or a pair of boots
Trainers? Were the blokes who trained the teams
In those street games of my youth!

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 We’d Irish kids, Jamaican kids, Italian kids and Poles
We’d even a couple in our midst, who went on to be pro’s
Did they hone their skills in lush green fields bedecked in football chic
No! They overcame the odds, where there ain’t no sods
In those stadiums of …..the street!




Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/inner-city-youth/