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The Claret and Blue land
So here we are again
Ready and braced for
Another nine month marathon
Of Premier League hot air
And classic cameos
Local rivalries and
Household names,
Legendary spats,
Familiar friends
And foes, thrilling
Contests and battles
And then there was
The Land of Claret and Blue
In the heat of East London
Your genuine Hammers
West Ham go flamenco,
Paella for tea,
Matadors at half time
Julen Lopetegui
Spanish Harlem
At the London Stadium
No Inquisitions required
Just a delicious hors d’oeuvre
Of European Championship winning
Style of football,
Hopefully,
Followed by a rare to medium
Chateaubriand steak of
Quality
Gastronomic heaven
But today we learn
Of Colombians scheming
Behind the scenes
Surely no drug cartels
Amid the West Ham academy
Oh no simply not, never
The Hammers always do clean,
Pure and puritanical
Duran due in the East End
But, hold on,
Since when did Simon Le Bon
Have any allegiance to the
Iron clad Irons?
Wan Bissaka was about to
If not quite join West Ham
Then he was close, in the vicinity
Of the Happy Hammers
Approaching the front door
Then advanced negotiations
Became a stagnant pool of water
Just the daftest of rumours
The first transfer window shut
Firmly in claret and blue faces
Meaningless transactions
That may as well have been
Double Dutch, whatever that meant
Kyle Walker Peters,
Yet more hyphenated Hammers
A year since James Ward Prowse
Became a fully fleged JWP
KWP was just a whisper
At the back of the classroom
Dissolving and melting in
Transfer factory gossip
We do though, have three
A breathtaking Brazilian blend
Luis, barely out of
The school playground
Glorious Guilherme
And Wes Fotheringham
Another goalkeeper
Just in case Alphonse
And Fabian falter and
Lose their way
Some of us do like
The sound of Ivan Toney
From the buzzing Bees
Goal scoring oozing honey
Danes demanding ransom
Tomas Frank wants at least
A billion for Ivan
Certainly not the Terrible
Tomas, it’ll be a pleasure
To do business with you
So deals still in the pipeline
Nothing concrete in the jungle
Of football’s dangerous
Back waters
Just shifty, nudge nudge wink
Wink, know what I mean
And before you can say VAR
It’ll be back as inevitably
As Christmas, then the
August opener against fellow
Claret and blues
It could be a vintage year
For either
Letter from Gareth (Pass it on)
Gareth penned a letter
His decision he laid bare
And he passed it on to Postie
Who passed it on to Soho Square
The F.A. suits read Southgate’s note
Then went out to drink and dine
And ten hours later they all agreed
That Gareth should resign.
“We accept your resignation,”
They wrote in the letter back
“It’s a better way to settle things
Than giving you the sack.
We wish you all the best
We hope your future is much calmer
But why on earth did you not start
Young Gordon or Cole Palmer?
Southgate read the letter
His face was full of pain
And he looked around at his team
Passing the letter on to Kane.
Kane he passed it back
To Jude who read it twice
Then passed the letter sideways
To the studious Declan Rice.
The note was deciphered thoroughly
By the England number four
And when Rice had finished reading it
He passed it out to Shaw.
Now Luke’s known to be a reader
He’s not much of a talker
And after reading it thirteen times
He passed it across to Walker.
Kyle Walker got emotional
As the note was quite a weeper
And he decided the best form of attack
Was to pass it to the keeper.
Jordan Pickford wasn’t happy
He flung the letter in the crowd
Where it ended up on E-bay
Being sold by an England fan from Stroud.
Two Nations went to Germany
Two nations went to Germany
In search of Silverware.
Now read these lines of poetry
To see how they both fared.
The Scots played with true grit and pride,
But they could not progress.
Their fans drank lots of booze alright,
The rest we’d best forget.
The English set out with high hopes,
Their first three games were dire.
But then against Slovakia.
They really lit our fire.
Next came a match against the Swiss –
One-One, and then to Pens.
This time not one White Shirt did fluff –
They proved that they are Men.
And then we faced the Netherlands,
A match not for faint hearts.
The Dutch sure played with courage,
Got off to a fine start.
But Kane he levelled from the Spot,
And then on ninety mins,
A wonder-strike from Watkins
Sent us heading to Berlin!
As usual, there we fell behind,
But Palmer equalised.
The Spanish went ahead once more,
And claimed the glittering Prize.
Two Nations went to Germany
To win some Silverware.
Both came back empty-handed,
With Nothing to Declare.
The English reached the Final,
The gave it a good try.
But one thing should ne’er be forgot:
The Scots drank Munich dry!
15/7/24
Denys E. W. Jones
The Famous Tale of Eddie Cavanagh
Onto the Wembley pitch Eddie races.
Wearing his jacket, tie and braces!
Fleet of foot, he leaves behind the law.
And why not Eddie, 2-2 now the score!
This is the famous Eddie Cavanagh tale.
One cop pulled at his jacket, to no avail.
Eddie slipped out the jacket, arms raised.
He carried on his pitch invasion, unfazed.
So copper number 2 took up the chase.
Careful now Eddie, this guy’s got the pace!
But this is not Twickenham, Eddie beware.
That cop’s rugby tackle, that’s so unfair!
Eddie lied outstretched on the 18 yard line.
The funniest ever Cup Final moment of mine.
Brian Labone tried his best to intervene.
As 4 coppers now duly arrived at the scene!
Eddie was carted off, a legend he’d become.
In the best Cup Final, Everton have ever won!
The lull before the storm
A haunting silence
Falls across English
Football once again
Like a hollow bowl
Of emptiness
So near and yet so far
Another tournament
That promised jewels
On German foothills
But only yielded
A pitiful whimper
In Euro 2024
Another Final,
Another defeat
But hold your heads high
It could hardly have been
Any worse
Now the Premier League
Beckons like
A lighthouse beacon
Winking lights
In the distance
Just under a month to go
Business as usual
Before, as if
Nothing had happened
The Beautiful Game
Slaps on its
Garish, cosmetic make up
Mustn’t forget the lipstick
And yet why?
Since football always
Looks pretty without
Any of those facial
Adornments
Handsome in August
When the bowling greens
Of football’s pristine
Petticoats,
Re-start in earnest
The Premier League
Flaunting their finest clothes
Not long to go before
Well clipped and manicured
Grass, smooth as coffee
Drink in that atmosphere
Players and managers
Take to centre stage again
Bare chests on late summer
Terraces and stands
Stretching far and wide
Football’s loveliest tapestry
Ready for the nine month
Marathon again
City, once again favourites
To do it all over again
Not five in a row, surely
The Premier League
Must be dreading this
But records are there
To be broken
Arsenal and Arteta
Like dragons breathing fire
Down clammy Manchester City
Shirts and skies of
Light blue
Arsenal, probably
Lucky at third time
Of asking, it has
To be their season
Never felt better,
Fitter or stronger
Law of averages
And there was
Legendary Liverpool,
Leafing back through the
Ancient pages of history
When Bill Shankly and Bob
Paisley made it look
So effortless
Jurgen now gone
But never forgotten
Heavy metal football
And yet light and nimble
On their feet
Spurs, now almost
Too comfortable on
Their richest sofa
Of the top flight
But the Double, like
Some vanishing star
From an age ago
Somehow Blanchflower,
Medwin, White, Dyson
And Jones
Are now strangers
In modern playgrounds
But let us never exclude
Manchester United
From the glittering lights
A stunning tour de force
Under Fergie’s fledglings
Who swept all comers
Under dusty carpets
Winning Trebles, cups
Premier Leagues, FA Cups
Champions League twice
Garlanded by the great and good
Now though Eric
With all the delicacy of
The Dutch
Who never made the right
Grade at World Cup jamborees,
Eric Ten Haag
Can those all conquering
Unbeatable days
Be recaptured?
Can modern day Beckhams, Giggs,
Butt and Scholes
Break through the summer haze
Into autumnal shades
Of fabulous football fiestas?
The Premier League just
A couple of weeks away again
Just for a week or two
Football on level playing fields
All equality since
Three points mean nothing
In early August or September
Before the juddering juggernaut
Sets off on that memorable journey
To who knows where?
By Christmas and the New Year
Clear pictures emerge
City, giggling in the background
Catch them if you can
Arsenal chase in hot pursuit
Spurs, Liverpool, Villa
You’re on their elusive coat tails
They could be contenders
And Bogart could only agree
Rub your hands with
Chants of choice words
It’ll be the Premier League
Again
Coming to a cinema
Near to you
Let the drama and chaos
Begin once more
Roberto Mancini and Zlatko Dalic and so what
Roberto Mancini and Zlatko Dalic
and so what ? Who would have thought about this :
Roberto Mancini once visited
Medjugorje in 2011
He made pilgrimage in that
picturesque region of Herzegovina
He prayed in Medjugorje
Italy under Roberto Mancini won the UEFA European Championship in 2021 the ten years later
and also under Roberto Mancini
failed to qualify for The 2022 FIFA World Cup
The most iritated England fan by
Chiellini in 2021
Or the most iritated Italian fan
by Italy missing The 2022 FIFA World Cup
wouldn’t implicate Roberto Mancini’s Medjugore pilgrimage in these affairs
In these campaigns
Zlatko Dalic the Croatia coach is the regular pilgrim at Medjugorje and sometimes he achieved impossible at 2018 FIFA World Cup then at 2022 FIFA World Cup and Croatia didn’t do well at UEFA European championship this year
But the hard-line communist journalist
Mr Beric from Oslobodjenje papers
proceded to account all the pilgrimages by walk of Mr Dalic over the years to point that it didn’t work at this years UEFA European Championship
The Football’s wins
The failures
The coaches
The competitions
The epic games
The results
The outcomes
The belief or prayers of the coaches
and managers
The Football and Belief
But what kind of man
would say That or That man prayed and
didn’t win accusing him for both
His belief and His result
There has been everything at this
UEFA European Championship
But in any country among 23 losers nations
is very difficult to find anyone
to say
This or this player prayed and didn’t win
It could have been any player
of any religion who prayed and had different achievement
But Oslobodjenje Papers did so
to Croatian Manager Dalic
I say again
Roberto Mancini and Zlatko Dalic and so what
Farewell Gareth Southgate
And so the nation bids farewell
To Gareth Southgate
The one man who immortalised
Waistcoats, beards
And smart designer shirts
On Sunday at least
Quite possibly Fred Perry,
Gucci, some may already know
Southgate, the man
Who gave credibility back to
The England job
The man who didn’t do the dirty
And betrayed us so brazenly
For the Saudi desert riches
Untold,
Yes dear Don Revie
For it was you
The accusing finger
Points at you
You were the treacherous one
Who upped sticks
After that illustrious stint
At Leeds
No. Gareth Southgate
You were the one
Who trusted your
Blossoming kids
Saw them ripen
Like fresh summer
Strawberries from
A groaning red punnet
At Wimbledon
Like Sir Bobby,
Terry, Ron Greenwood
Underrated so you believe
But Gareth Southgate
We’ll never forget
Although some would
Prefer to air brush you from
History, oh no, not us
You were the respectable one,
The quiet and modest gent
Who never looked flustered
Or ruffled, crumpled
Nor stressed or agitated
You guided us gently
Down the path of success
And yes, we’ll say it
With confidence
As you did so repeatedly
Triumphant moments
Without the signature of
Trophies or cups
But who cares?
Two Euro Finals in
Succession
Both lost admittedly
But the endeavour
Was there
Plastered all over Berlin
Strasses, posters,
Advertising hoardings
Like a St George’s homage
Gareth Southgate
You were the one who
Revived flagging
Team spirits
At St George’s Park
Who invented team bonding
Camaraderie and bonhomie
In equal measure
Who brought the nation
Together when all appeared
To be lost and we were
Crestfallen since none of us
Thought we’d ever climb
Out of the hole
That Capello and Sven
Might have left wide open
Gareth Southgate
One World Cup semi final,
A World Cup quarter final
And not quite over the line
Did you cross
This was your CV,
Your positive legacy
Of course
The England job
Was always likely to
Be the poisoned chalice
But Gareth,
You were all over this one
Through that infectious fist pump
When victory was ours, but
No Bank Holidays or open topped bus
Parades and festivities
But to misquote an old song
Maybe next time
The cynics might tell us
Perhaps it’ll never happen
Doomed in the dank dungeons
Of narrow defeats and buried
In the depths of wretched
Failure and close run things
But as you clear your desk today
At the FA, today
Gareth Southgate
It was much closer than you think
To coming home
Thankyou Gareth Southgate
We wish you well
It’s Not Coming Home
So it’s not coming home
as England lose to Spain,
it just wasn’t meant to be
for Gareth Southgate and Harry Kane.
So it’s not coming home
a case of so near but so far away,
but the Spanish were the better side
and deserved their win on the day.
So it’s not coming home
another final ending in tears,
many fans sat staring into space
and some crying in their beers.
So it’s not coming home
and truth be told will it ever ?
they just can’t win a major tournament
so the answer is probably never !
Caught Up In A Dream (It’s Over)
even though we swear we won’t
something sucks us in
armchair managers emerge
when the games begin
once again we do it all
ev’ry time it seems
caught up in the flow and vibe
caught up in the dream
drenched in optimism
of all that lay in store
hopes rained down like beer in cups
thrown each time we score
looking back it’s easy
saying where we failed
where the game was won and lost
where we got derailed
let’s be honest let’s be clear
for a little while
Spain were something else out there
the quality and style
one more lesson learned again
from a stunning team
who performed as one throughout
caught up in the dream
but this is not the time to rage
we’ve been here before
ifs and buts and hindsight
don’t matter any more
let’s be glad we got so far
let’s applaud our side
let’s recall the good bits
felt along the ride
let’s not pick on Gareth
let’s not pick on Kane
let’s not look for culprits
let’s acknowledge Spain
let’s remember one thing
when you love a team
all you want is just to be
caught up in the dream
but oh to have the confidence
oh to press and play
the vision flair and passion
and that winning way
in the end you realize
through all the stuff you’ve seen
that you forgot the weather here
caught up in the dream
Football (Nearly) Came Home
Who cares if it wasn’t a pen, against the Dutch,
When luck rolls its dice, we’ve not had much,
Maradona’s handball in ’86,
A dirty trick that history couldn’t fix,
In France 98, all our hopes were marred,
When Beckham was shown that fateful red card,
Sol Campbell’s winning goal, cruelly denied,
And another glorious victory died,
Then Lampard’s shot, over the line by a yard,
All these decisions leaving mental scars,
But through the tears and endless debate,
We’ve learned to forgive, and quell our hate,
So let the past be past, just let it be,
For we’ve always believed in destiny,
Let’s all raise a glass, as we sing and cheer,
Football (nearly) came home this year.
About This Site
Welcome to Football Poets -- a club for all football poets, lovers of football and lovers of (alternative) poetry. Discover poets in every league from respected internationals at the top of their game to young hopefuls in the school playground.
Publish your football poems here and then discuss them with your team mates and fans. We're archived by The British Library, so your masterpieces are in the safe hands of a world-class keeper. What a result!
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Latest Poems
John Gilbert Ellis
28th November 2024
joe morris
26th November 2024
Denys E. W. Jones
26th November 2024
Gacina Bozidar
26th November 2024
Wynn Wheldon
26th November 2024
joe morris
17th November 2024
Crispin Thomas
17th November 2024
kevin halls
10th November 2024
joe morris
10th November 2024
Clik The Mouse
10th November 2024
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
27th November 2024 at 5:55 am
‘You’re Supposed To Be At Home’ is an excellent and moving poem Denys.
You start off thinking it’s just about another oft-sung chant, one we personally heard a lot last season throughout our second relegation in a row here at Forest Green(FGR) ! I always love poems where you think they are saying one thing and then they suddenly pull you deeper to somewhere or something else else.
I’m currently helping in a local school for FGR in a voluntary capacity using football to help young students with reading. At an upcoming session we will tackle racism, just like we did in workshops at football schools and grounds when we first started this site 24 years ago. I’m gonna try and weave your poem into a session.
We’ve added it to the Anti- Racism/Kick It Out section under Crispin’s Corner.
Best C
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26th November 2024 at 1:59 pm
Great poem and great to see you back Wyn.
Don’t leave it so long next time my friend!
More please.
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13th September 2024 at 6:14 pm
Welcome to Football Poets Beth
Great evocative poem Beth….
More please !
Haiku always welcome.
Hope we (FGR) get to play you again soon
Best
Crispin
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26th July 2024 at 6:25 pm
Great poem Mike Bartram. Eddie was a legend, affectionately known in Liverpool as, “the first hooligan.” Even the hoolies were well dressed in those days. The amazing thing was he was only 26 when that picture was taken. He’d played for Everton youth team and was well known to the players. He never got arrested. They threw him out and he climbed back in, just in time for Derek Temples winner.
I used the picture of him being tackled to the ground on the front cover of my book, “Once Upon a rhyme in Football.” It’s worth looking on youtube and finding the re-enactment of the Wembley scene. Frank Skinner and Baddiel went around to Eddies home in the 1990’s and acted it out on the green outside. It’s hilarious, especially all the effort they put in to get Eddie sober enough to shoot the scene.
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10th July 2024 at 6:07 pm
Hi Crispin,
I don’t know if you’ve see the picture in social media today…
a picture of a teenage Lionel Messi cradling a baby in Africa as part of a photoshoot…. the family had won a lottery to have their baby pictured with him….
the photographer has just revealed that the baby is actually in fact Lamine Yamal!!!!
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26th May 2024 at 2:30 pm
Hi Denys…
Re Man City:
OK it was 20 years ago but Criag Wilson did write this and a few others on them back in 04/05.
BTW I’m more Forest Green Rover since 2014 (and Chelsea) these days . I drum and am a standing season ticket holder .
Best
Crispin
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29th April 2024 at 2:47 pm
Hi Denys,
Yes Richard Williams you’re a brilliant wordsmith, my friend. When I first saw your football poetry I thought it was the superb Guardian sports and music writer. I once had the honour of sitting next to Richard Williams while at the Independent on the sports desk. He writes about music and sport with immense knowledge and authority. I’ve read a couple of Richard’s books recently. Great writer rather like you Richard Williams the Pompey fan. Congratulations on promotion.
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28th April 2024 at 5:59 pm
Thanks Denys. Yes your replay poem was superb.
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26th April 2024 at 4:46 pm
Nice work, Joe. You were quick off the mark with that! Good one from Richard Williams too I see.
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25th April 2024 at 7:33 pm
Hi Denys,
Thanks mate. I’ll do it now.
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