Sign of the Times

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 We are romantic about football
Eulogising our heroes
Those chivalrous gallant knights of the pitch
But when the smoke of love disperses
And we look and see
Those football boots of clay
Caked in the mud of corruption, greed, addiction, misogyny
I mean the list goes on eternally and wearily
But still, we applaud the goals the sublime passes
The impossible angles the silver trophies glittering…
And chant for more, for more, for so much more
And never a moment stop to pause, we know just where the cash cows graze,
And hidden grain and gains securely stored
Yet we deplore the sight of war
Expect in football metaphor: “battled hardened warrior gets stuck into the fight for the cause”
Oh, the smell of money from Kansas to Oz
We mock and jest, think we’re above the gutter rest
Until it’s us caught in the same malignant treasure chest
Hypocrites all.



The hollow soul of football was ever thus.

As the bard says “loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud”.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/sign-of-the-times/