Football Poets

South erm, soft tease (part2)

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Anyway, to the matter in hand
A comment on a sport, that’s popular all across the land
Tally ho!
Well, it is, you know
Where else could you get hundreds of people out in all weathers
Drinking in the Fox and Hound, or Cat and Feathers
Participating in barbaric acts
Mass debating over trivial facts
And though I haven’t actually played since I was at school
(Thank goodness Pater was on the fiddle while I played the fool)
As we arsed around at Rugger…..
Oh, bugger!
Wrong shaped ball
And of course ‘tackle’ has a totally different meaning
Less opportunity to manhandle, if that’s the way one’s leaning
Talking of sailors and ship-shape
One once sailed around the Cape
When one was in Command
Rather than in demand
For services beyond the call of duty
Pity really, for she was quite a beauty
But one was told it would have been a providential tactic
If one had used a standard issue prophylactic
Oh I say, awfully sorry, off on a tangent again
Sorry to be such a pain
Awfully decent of you to ask me to proffer my opinion
Even though the request came from such a lowly minion
Reminds me of that preposterous little man, rather portly
I’ll remember his name shortly
Totally full of balderdash
New found wealth, loved to flash his cash
Who had the temerity to upset the Establishment
And do you know what that meant?
Well, he should have been fed to the hounds
For that bounder’s comments were out of bounds
And though it certainly wouldn’t be considered pukkah
But one would have to describe him as a dirty, rotten ………. Scoundrel

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 And certainly one would not be amused
If e’er one’s Royal & Ancient were to be confused
With that nasty game of golf and those ghastly courses
Taking up valuable land that would be far better suited to one’s horses
Great sport, what, that Polo, sitting astride a mare, all that riding
Holding one’s pole and leathers sliding…….
Actually, I suppose one might have espied, when drinking champers up on the roof
Beyond the castle grounds, a different kind of hoof
Ah yes, that reminds me now of the so called Beautiful Game
What a misnomer, that title should apply to shooting pheasant, grouse and anything lame
Talking of Miss Gnome, though she was quite a shorty
She was ever so sporty
Not like one’s haughty sister
Who once played a naughty game of twister
So sorry, once more a deviation
Ok yah, a product of one’s education
And as one is rather prim and proper
One certainly could come a cropper
If one were asked to recall, when it came to the round ball
Could one name any of the participants at all?
Well, what about Onmi Edson, wasn’t he the one called Peelee
You know, all touch feely
Great ball control and lots of skill, provided many a thrill
Famous for the best miss ever
And his involvement in a certain save so clevah
Ho hum, fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood, and bones
Ok yah, one has met one Vincent Jones
Good shot, I believe, with the old twelve bore
Frightfully nice chap, gripping personality, hard to ignore

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Ah, yah, ok yah, in closing
While you’re all still dozing
I suppose one finally ought to mention
That game of proletariat invention
And I know you consider me rather snooty
But do carry on, and enjoy your game of footy

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