Football Poets

THE BATTLE OF BECKS AND FERGIE. 2003ad

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 United troop off,
they’re beaten at home,
and Sir Alex’s mouth,
is starting to foam.

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The players heads,are all bowed,
faces covered in gloom,
as they know what awaits them,
in the dressing room.

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 While they sat and awaited,
the public inquiry,
in stormed Sir Alex,
all angry and fiery.

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 “Youse lost to them bastards,
ye didnae show up,
you gave them two goals,
now we’re ooot of the cup.

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Giggsy, how did ye,
miss that wide open goal?
You’re playing with nay fire,
in your body or soul.”

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 As his face it went redder,
his presbyterian glare,
turned to the captain of England,
with the streaky blond hair.

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 “You were made a complete fool,
by young Ashley Cole,
it was all doon to you,
their second goal.

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 You’re way over-rated,
and you make too much dosh,
you’ve nay been the same,
since ye met that one Posh.”

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 But Becks didn’t take it,
by sitting aback,
and retaliated against Fergie,
with a verbal attack.

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 “And Wenger again,
has made you a tactical fool,
why can’t you be like him,
laid back, and cool.

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 Your psycological games,
no longer work,
Arsene just laughs,
he thinks you’re a jerk.

¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 Sir Alex then lost it ,
he couldn’t take more,
as he looked for an object,
to kick on the floor.

¶ 13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 He saw an old muddy boot,
and with his face now pure florid,
he aimed it towards,
the side of Becks forehead.

¶ 14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 “That’s what ye get,
for starting a row,”
screamed Fergie as the boot,
struck Beckham’s eye-brow.

¶ 15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 Just then into,
the dressing room came,
Ashley Cole of Arsenal,
saying ‘good game’.

¶ 16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 He witnesses Beckham,
being held back by Scholes,
and Fergie telling him where,
to stick his Ferrari and Rolls.

¶ 17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 Ferdinand ushers,– his England mate out,
as the crazed man from Govan,
continues to shout.

¶ 18 Leave a comment on verse 18 0 Fergie then leaves,
for a sky interview,
not telling the public,
of the tantrum he threw.

¶ 19 Leave a comment on verse 19 0 The wound is diagnosed,
as a slight graze,
but that’s not the story,
in a couple of days.

¶ 20 Leave a comment on verse 20 0 On Monday,—- with an alice band,
and with,— no wooly hat,
Beckham walks around Manchester,
looking like a prat.

¶ 21 Leave a comment on verse 21 0 He plays the battered victim,
almost, —- to the tee,
as he poses for photographs,
for the world to see.

¶ 22 Leave a comment on verse 22 0 Fergie is portrayed,
as dictatoral,sour and mean,
as the press wonder, what would have happened,
if the boot had hit Roy Keane.

¶ 23 Leave a comment on verse 23 0 Then the story hits a hitch,
did his eye-brow,
need a stitch?

¶ 24 Leave a comment on verse 24 0 Becks says two,
Alex says nil,
and how much blood,
did he really spill?

¶ 25 Leave a comment on verse 25 0 Becks wants from Fergie,
a public apology,
and Posh says he should give it,
on a bended knee.

¶ 26 Leave a comment on verse 26 0 But Fergie says,”aplogies
are only for the weak,
and if David does nae like it,
different employment he should seek.”

¶ 27 Leave a comment on verse 27 0 So with the world on the verge,
of an almighty row,
the front pages in England,
were about a left—eye-brow.

¶ 28 Leave a comment on verse 28 0 As of the time of writing,
things have all calmed down,
Beckham’s still a poser,
and Fergie’s still a clown.