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Ref’s Not Blind

Bryan Murphy

Thursday, December 18th, 2008

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The referee has laid his bet,
at the tiny ground we are all set.
Turns out the man has gone for us,
so: lips zipped, let no-one cuss.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 First half, every call our way:
have to laugh. Cup tie? It’s a play!
Our striker tumbles over, a trick.
Ref plays his whistle. Spot kick!

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Weak shot, goalie saves, linesman waves.
Take it again, don’t know why, but when
he does it’s a beauty, makes amends.
But then they level. First half ends.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 The ref is losing; he phones again.
Double stakes now, on them.
Our every tackle deemed a foul,
each shot offside, cards fly.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 We go behind: never mind,
wakes us up. One last fling.
Unbelievable, it’s in!
Ref says no. Out we go.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 I have little wish to be sour or mean;
I doff my hood to the better team,
corruption surely is just a bad dream.
Was there a time when the game was clean?

© Bryan Murphy 2008

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/refs-not-blind/