Football Poets

The business end

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Time to roll up the sleeves
It’s the business end
Of the Premier League season
Be prepared for ugliness
Wars of attrition
Desperate measures
Relegation travails
Trials and tribulations
Scrappy, hell for leather
Football, throwing kitchen
Sinks at severely troubled
Egos, Struggling for survival
Of the fittest or just not
Up for the fight
Or maybe they are
Today it’s the collision
Of the Clarets
In East End environs
At the London Stadium
West Ham and Burnley
Contrasting bouquets
One a fine fully bodied
Flavour in the top 10
The other sinking fast
And wondering whether
Promotion back to
Premier League routines
Was some fruitless quest
We’ll take the red, please
But now the Premier League
Becomes totally unsympathetic
No mercy, no respecters of
Reputation who ever you are
For Sheffield United and Luton
The dark chambers of gloom and doom
Drop down ominously
The Blades now cut down to size
And destined to drop through the
Trap door from whence they came
Unless the intervention of miracles
Come to their rescue
Walk on water, Sheffield United
You may need all the help
You can get
Held by the Cherries
Of Bournemouth
On the South Coast
A point by the Hampshire
Promenades but surely down
No cherries on any cake
Then the Hatters of Luton
Still booted and suited
But still seeking smart
Bowlers to remain
In elite company
Particularly amongst
The City of Manchester
Boys against men
But Luton we commend
Your gallantry and valour
When the odds are stacked
Against you
A last second leveller
At the Palace
Where the royal courtiers
Will always meet with
A courteous bow
Meanwhile the Gunners
Still firing on all cylinders
And gorging on goals
Only two against the Bees
But no sign of any indigestion
Arsenal indulge in latest jars
Of honey
Today though it’s the epic battle
Royale, Blow the trumpets
Gladiatorial dignitaries
Will assemble in the
Etihad’s amphitheatre
Lions are prowling
Circling the wagon
Manchester City and Liverpool
It simply doesn’t get any better
This is serious
And they’re not joking
No holds barred
No concessions
It could be the
One we were hoping for
And of course expecting
This is no time for compromise
Win at all costs
Cards on the table
Lock those horns
Pep and Jurgen
It’s now or never
The blow could be
Either painful or fatal
Lose then Arsenal
May be ready to rejoice
With chilled champagne on ice
Ready for May celebrations
Yet another Premier League trophy
It’s been a while now
But patience could be a virtue
For those who once walked
The Highbury roads and streets
Boasting George, Radford, Brady,
Simpson, Kelly, Graham,
The richness of Rocastle’s talent
When North London was the centre
Of the capital’s hoi polloi
Fashion and flair for lunch
But now it’s Havertz, the winner
In the nick of time yesterday
Odegaard, Rice, Saka
A treasure trove of gifts
This could be their season
To restore the status quo
Premier League champions
It sounds so good
Pleasing to the eye and ear
Those Emirates connoisseurs
They know a trophy
When they see it

10