Football Poets

The Ballad of Franck Queudrue

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 08/09 we had been sunk
To the Championship’s murky mire
Our squad back then was mainly junk.
Bent and Murphy drew our ire

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 But standing proud, his chest out-puffed
he knew just what to do.
This dashing, Gallic superman
we knew as Franck Queudrue

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 The year before, he’d joined our core
Bruce bought him to the fold.
His performances, from tepid to good,
Enraged Sullivan and Gold

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 But standing proud, his chest out-puffed
he knew just what to do.
This dashing, Gallic superman
we knew as Franck Queudrue

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 The year it started bad for Franck.
McLeish played Murphy at left-back
Though Tilton, Kop and Railway End
could see that he was cack

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 He trundled on, unloved and unsure
tormented by the wingers. Then in
October he got crocked, but doubts
about Franck still lingered

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 He turned up late for pre-season
after being slated by the boss.
Although he had a reason, it seemed
a load of dross

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Was his head in the right place?
Was his heart still with the team?
Would he be better than last year?
What followed was a dream…

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 So standing proud, his chest out-puffed
he knew just what to do.
This dashing, Gallic superman
we knew as Franck Queudrue

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 The left-back slot he made his own
with acts of derring-do. He fit
so well into the team we wondered
David who?

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 He was our french resistance.
He was our Charles De Galle
At Barnsley, Sheffield and Doncaster
He answered to our call

¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 A touch of class amongst a mostly
steaming pot of turds. He gave us hope,
and kept us dreaming
when we were lost for words

¶ 13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 He popped up with some crucial goals
against the likes of Bristol City
and when our season nearly petered out
he kept things tight and pretty

¶ 14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 The season ended, and we went up
Somehow! Oh thank the Lord.
At the end-of-season do
he won Player of the Season award

¶ 15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 His blonde streak in, to mark out
his heart, strength and desire
He got a mention on TV from
Michael Macintyre

¶ 16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 So the new season dawned at Old Trafford
and Franck rose to the test
being played, at centre-half, which
is probably where he’s best

¶ 17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 But he got crocked, as is his wont
and youth was ushered in. Scott Dann
and RJ formed a bond and Franck was
in the bin.

¶ 18 Leave a comment on verse 18 0 So we loaned him off to Colchester
and he got crocked again. At the end
of the season, it was announced
that we’d say goodbye to our friend

¶ 19 Leave a comment on verse 19 0 So thank you Franck. You’ve cheered our hearts
and in winter made them glad. We’re sorry
we ever doubted you and that
Sullivan called you bad.

¶ 20 Leave a comment on verse 20 0 Your star it shone so briefly, but brightly
all the same. That you could
stay no longer seems to me
a real shame.

¶ 21 Leave a comment on verse 21 0 We wish you luck, wherever you go.
Be strong and never worry
My only regret is that i never got
to taste your legendary Curry

¶ 22 Leave a comment on verse 22 0 You were our french resistance.
You were our Charles De Galle
From the Tilton, Kop and Railway End
we love you one and all