Sacre Bleu!

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Leaning down to gather up the sphere
By hordes of baying Blues assembled near
I wonder what Henry, the French ace thought of us?
Poised to take a corner kick
He stood confused at accurately being hit,
By a hail of celery stalks, bouncing off his coiffured nut?

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Us fans broke out a song we Loved to sing
The lauded French ace sporting a sheepish grin
Turned n smiled as celery rained down thin n thick
Though we didn’t mean French Bonhomme no harm
He exuded charm, and a modicum of calm
Shrugged his shoulders, hoofing in the corner kick.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Poignant moments appear now and again
Like a Walsall night stood sopping in the rain
Blinding memories to truly pass the test a time
I remember quelle surprise on Henry’s boat,
“Celery, celery”, reverberating in my throat
Like t’was yesterday, and so worthy of a rhyme!



Can’t remember the exact year, this happened I’m afraid to say. Must be a while ago, seeing as the green stuff is banned nowadays at our place. Boat-race. Rhyming-slang for face.


Stay sage. Bode well. Adios ESL.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/sacre-bleu/