Odour de Football
¶ 1
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
Smell of the chippies on Walton Road,
onions from the pavement hotdog vendors
outside Anfield, mmmm, stink of steaming turds
from the rozzer’s horse, medallions in the street!
¶ 2
Leave a comment on verse 2 0
We crush into the Kop, smell the men’s underarms,
Brylcream, Vitalis, chewy, damp wool coats,
bad breath and beer, “Under the arm, Leeds!”
We’re two up in 20 minutes, we crush forward
¶ 3
Leave a comment on verse 3 0
when we score, all crane to look, someone farts,
another fella has to take a leak, odor of warm piss.
Mmm, my memories run like that: the old Kop still is.
¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Christopher T. George
23
Comments
0 Comments on the whole Poem
Create an account to leave a comment on the whole Poem
0 Comments on verse 1
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 1
0 Comments on verse 2
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 2
0 Comments on verse 3
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 3
0 Comments on verse 4
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 4