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Saturday On The Somme

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Mist in the air, a dampness through your bones
As that whistle blows.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 It must be full time lads – cos the end is nigh on
Top that bloody bank.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 A long way from home, the wet crowded streets
At five on a Saturday night.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 But we’re here together, joined up as one in the
Patriotic fervour and fire.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 The footballers’ battalion we’re called – from City
From Rovers, from Blighty we came.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 And Imaybe the Clubs will miss us when it’s all
Done. Like hell, they will.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 So we dig in, resolute. Defend the line lads, just
As we did in that Cup tie.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Fix bayonets Sarge screams. Over the top boys,
The goal’s right over there.

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 Charge, someone kicks a ball forward. Flesh,
Wire, anger, we’ve lost I fear.

10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 So send a postcard, all jaunty and fun. Home
For next season we’re told.

11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 It never came.

RIP the footballing soldiers of World War I.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/saturday-on-the-somme/