1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 I once played at The Hawthorns,
and we had the Home dressing room:

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 the walk-in bath like something out of Cleopatra,
(the banter that it should have been filled with milk,
and then the scouse accents intermingled with laughter
at ‘Accrington Stanley, who are they? Exactly!’)

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 We put our own team shirts on the rows of hooks,
then took them straight off again
to pull them over anxious faces.
Shoe-horned on freshly-cleaned boots,
slicked back Beckham quiffs and Waddle mullets.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 And then- oh!- the run out onto the pitch…..
the touching of the badge,
the wild flutter of butterflies,
the sudden surge of energy
as we sprinted out… to a ripple of polite applause.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 A charity match:
warm-up act for the main event-
First XI versus Old Boys.
First Half we kicked towards the Brummie Road,
Half the crowd hadn’t even left home yet…
it didn’t matter.
We lost 5-0…
It didn’t matter.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 We sang in the bath after
like we’d just won the FA Cup…
closest we’ll ever get to it.


Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/my-claim-to-fame/