One For The Back Seat Drivers.
¶ 1
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
It’s the final match of the season
The whistle to turn round has blown
A coach orders his charges: suck oranges and listen
Instead of sitting there moaning an groaning.
¶ 2
Leave a comment on verse 2 0
“Is anyone hurt, or suffering here lads?”
He says as he looks round the room
Midst a tweaking of laces and muddy shin pads
Fourteen youngsters decide to stay schtum.
¶ 3
Leave a comment on verse 3 0
“Win this, we’re getting promoted
Lose, and we stay where we are
We’re doing okay, so lets try not to blow it
You’ve done great even getting this far.
¶ 4
Leave a comment on verse 4 0
Do you recall what we said about team-work,
How we win, lose or draw as a team?
No losing your temper or feigning your hurt
If the other side is getting stuck in?
¶ 5
Leave a comment on verse 5 0
No questioning the referee’s decisions,
Bad mouthing or calling him names
Do you remember how earlier in the season?
We were lauded for our manner of play?”
¶ 6
Leave a comment on verse 6 0
The puzzled youngsters think these comments unkind
“But coach we’ve heard every word that you’ve said?”
“I know you have lads,
Now nip over to your parents stood on the touchline,
and check that they’ve been getting the message!”
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
0 Comments on verse 5
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 5
0 Comments on verse 6
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 6