Football Poets

Oh for days of yore

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Oh for the cruel injustices
Of the offside law
The very definition of
A mundane goal-less bore
Fine margins, sprays and
VAR, toes, elbows and nose
Quite frankly who knows?
The game seemed so
Straightforward and clear
With cherished ideals so dear
There was the half back, inside
Forward and the stubborn
Stopper
Now as ancient
As the proverbial gobstopper
We had goal-keepers, full backs
And fine, upstanding centre halves
When defenders did their utmost
To find elusive calves
And shin pads, still the case
The loyal and trustworthy bootlace
As time stood still
We never lost the will
At 3 in the afternoon
Anytime soon
And Saturdays couldn’t
Have come more quickly
Even when we were sickly
Now they track back,
No time to be slack
The mysterious low block
It’s so easy to mock
High pressing and dressing
Never messing
Just confessing, what a blessing
Professing to be our game
When tackling was so lame
The game with its floral pattern
We gather it’s played on Saturn
So this weekend please remember
Even in December
The days when football was all
About coats and goalposts
And the home side were but perfect
Hosts
And nothing will take away
The vocal solidarity and the
Kids just loved to play
And we passed and crossed
Midfielders who bossed
And striker was a giant
So pliant
Whose shorts brushed his ankle
Those refs would so persistently
Rankle with fans riled and wild
Matthews, Lawton and Dean
Football never lost its lustre
And sheen
The game had simplicity
Authenticity but you always knew that
Please no more back chat
Since they’ve now chanced
Upon the blue card
What can be so hard to understand?
The game was never played on sand
First there was red and yellow
There goes the jolly good fellow
Colours so bright and vivid
Yes we know you’re utterly livid
But now there’s all seating
Fans united and hearts beating
Throughout the ages
Regardless of wages
Football was there for us
Even in the days of the old
Route Master bus
And they lit up the tobacco
Crosby and Hope
Led us to the road
To Morocco
Milk and bread were a shilling
Flanagan and Allen dominated
Top billing
Now the millions and billions
Of football’s maddening money
How can that be funny?
But we’ll always have football
Its cheerleaders and bandleaders
Come rain, snow and shine
To be sipped with the finest bouquet
Of wine, please dine
In hospitality boxes
Seemingly toxic
Then laddish banter
We’re sure win to in a canter
Bullish humour and bonhomie
The ultimate camaraderie
Half time followed by full time
No excuse for a whine
While injuries dragged out
By at least half an hour
Football holds of course
All the power
Now come on lads
A quick shower
Before counting the costs
Of pulled groins and joins
Football revels in the present
The bold and pleasant,
City, Rovers, United and Town
The despondent frown
When defeat means no crown
Of three points and more
Hat-tricks at the door
Please football keep going
We love its endless gloating
4-0 to us and nobody else
We deserve it all ourselves
Promotion what a blast
We knew it would last
Premier League on our mast
On the front foot and make
It fast, now pronto
The enduring sign
On our motto
Football on any day
We wouldn’t swap it
For any other way

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