Football Poets

The Regular

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 A night when ancient war-gods vented
All their anger in the weather,
Bracken shook like ghouls demented,
Earth and heaven fused together.

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The gale had never once abated,
Never once had it looked back,
And lightning shafts illuminated
The Scottish moorlands clothed in black.

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 The driving rain in fury poured
Like waves of vengeful Ostermen,
And mighty Thor and Odin roared
In savage echoes round the glen.

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Jim McPherson stumbled gamely
Through the dank and sodden heather,
Cold and soaking, cursing lamely
At the unrelenting weather.

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Down the hillside, slowly sinking,
Ancient wisdom, bowed, forlorn,
Granite boulders stared unblinking,
Eyes through grassy carpet worn.

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Until, at last, his sturdy boot
Felt tarmacadam ‘neath his feet,
And, pausing to arrange his suit,
He marched off quickly down the street.

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 Down the long dark road he pressed,
Skirting round Ben Tanzie’s girth,
Like an ant around the breast
Of ever-watchful Mother Earth.

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Soon he came upon a white house
The object of his lonely trek,
Shining brightly like a lighthouse,
Close beside a glassy beck.

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 He pushed his way in through the door
And paused upon the woven mat,
Water pouring on the floor
A-leaping from his brimming hat.

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 He spied the owner by the fire,
In his shirtsleeves pristine white.
“How’re ye, Bull?” he did enquire,
“Business awful bad tonight?”

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 Billy said, “There’s no-one here,
There won’t be much a-washin’ delph.
And, but I knew that you’d appear,
I’d mebbe stayed upstairs meself.”

¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 “Telly on the blink again?”
Said Jim, with glance at blackened screen.
“Or has this damned incessant rain
Washed your satellite dish clean?”

¶ 13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 “Match is off,” replied Bill Ferris.
“Caley’s pitch is quite rained out.
Fans are fishing from the terrace
Someone even caught a trout.”

¶ 14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 “Match is off?” his friend repeated,
“After I have come this far?
Raith and Forfar once competed
With the water o’er the bar.

¶ 15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 ‘Can’t they put on extra ganzies?
Wear some flippers on their feet?
Pathetic bunch of preening pansies,
Bit o’ rain and they’re all beat.”

¶ 16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 McPherson squelched up to the bar,
And sat down in his normal spot.
“I willna ha’ ma usual jar,
I’m sore in need o’ sumtin’ hot.”

¶ 17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 “Mebbe ye’ll ha’ a cup o’ tay?”
Said Billy, rising with a smile.
He placed a teapot on a tray,
A-grinning broadly all the while.

¶ 18 Leave a comment on verse 18 0 “’Tis not for tay me mouth’s bin achin’!”
Came McPherson’s sharp retort.
“Sumtin’ strong teh stop me shakin’,
Sumtin’ like a glass o’ port.”

¶ 19 Leave a comment on verse 19 0 “Port is it?” came back the banter,
“Wha’ sort o’ port does sir require?
Shall I fetch ma best decanter
An’ serve it t’ye by the fire?”

¶ 20 Leave a comment on verse 20 0 McPherson smiled, “Now don’ be sully,
Jes’ gi’e’s a glass t’mek me warm.
An’ I dinna care wha’ sort now, Bully,
‘Tis any port, sure, in a storm.”