Football Poets

The Swell

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Warm sunshine greeted us that mid April day.
From Wembley we were only one step away.
The vast travelling Kop were now on the move.
The best team in the world.. nothing to prove!

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 A familiar journey ahead, Hillsborough bound.
Coaches were bouncing to the scouse sound!
Cloughie’s Forest no problem, confidence high.
Hoping for a Merseyside Final, the perfect tie!

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Arrived at Hillsborough,the sun still shines.
Treated like animals, it happens most times.
Ask most footie fans and they’ll say the same.
Frog marched like villains from coach or train.

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Outside our end,the queue was going nowhere.
Things don’t look right, are the coppers aware?
Fans are getting crushed, there’s nowhere to go.
The police must act soon, it’s their duty to know.

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Fans are getting trapped and pinned to the wall.
The pressure then relieved,another close call.
Used to many ‘close calls’ they’re nothing new.
But nothing ever gets done, so what can you do?

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 The big exit Gate was opened to avoid a crush.
So onto the terrace fans went,no panic no rush.
At last inside the Stadium,freed from that swell.
But where to go next, there are no signs to tell.

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 So the enclosure right ahead looks the best bet.
No police or stewards around for advice to get.
The Liverpool fans already sound in good voice.
But this packed pen looks like the wrong choice.

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Not an inch to move, the pen’s full to the brim.
I can’t turn back, as there’s fans still coming in.
Barriers heaving under the pressure and weight.
Chilling cries of help rise from this vice like state.

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 The temperature rising to an unbearable heat.
Fans being dragged or lifted clean off their feet.
Heads were held high,fans began fighting for air.
As the police looked on who didn’t seem to care.

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 On the coach back home, the ‘head count’ complete.
Different fans this time, all silent, the odd empty seat.
The coach goes back to Liverpool, in silence I pray.
The death toll rising, the sun vanished for the day.

29