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Saturday Morning Football, Circa 1962

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Through sparse clad trees in mustard leaves,
To dressing rooms well hid
With dubbined boots in duffle bags
Traipsed eleven scruffy kids

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Fortified and warm inside
With hot sarsy and bread pudding *1
A park-keeper opens up a damp room
To leave their shoes and socks in

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Grab a post to hang yer coat
A bit of wooden bench to sit on
Pull on football socks and shin pads,
Fresh laundered shirts and shorts of crimson

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 The rousing smell of liniment
That helps ward off the cold
A three penny loose is passed around *2
Between young ones acting old

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 A cheery manager, who turns up late
As he’s a full time job to do
When he’s there, there’s no smoking mate
He’ll drop you, if you do

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 The clunk of studs upon a floor
That’s matted deep in mud
Cold water from an ancient tap
To wash off eight holed cud

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 Opponents turn up dressed to kill
In bright new pristine kit
But what have clothes to do with it?
All is even on the pitch

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Chewing gum is passed among
Both team’s of rising stars
As the butterflies come calling,
Nervous excitement starts

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 “When you’re ready boys” the ref tannoys
“It’s time to start the game”
Grab the oranges for the half time break
Ten number six, just in case? *3

10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 A walk across a muddy field, left sodden by the rain
This is Saturday morning football, Clapham Common, circa 1962
When all in life that mattered, was to be out there,
Come rain or shine, amongst yer mates….. and playing in a game

11

Notes

This a fond memory of a really terrific time as a kid, Clapham Common is in South West London, on Saturday mornings the whole place used to be covered in football pitches, hosting really competitive local matches!

*1 Hot sarsparilla with bread pudding! The coolest winter breakfast.

*2 A three penny loose is a cigarette sold as a single, cos as a nine year old, it was rare to be able to afford,*3, 10 Players No 6!

Yep! We were trying to act all grown up by smoking so young, not to be advised.

Remember when you never ever saw footballers smoke?

peace

kev

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/saturday-morning-football-circa-1962/