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Upon The Hands Of Fans

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 upon this mighty sea I sail

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 so young and wild and free

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 in endless waves like goalie saves

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 these arms stretch out for me

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 no child on Earth could ere describe

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 this feeling deep inside

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 at three foot tall so frail and small

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 above these heads I glide

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 so gently passed from man to man

10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 they lift me to and fro

11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 like cans on some conveyor belt

12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 as to the field I go

13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 to watch in awe along the track

14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 my heroes chase and pass

15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 no man between myself and team

16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 beside this hallowed grass

17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 a hill of caps and raincoats

18 Leave a comment on verse 18 0 this terrace made of stone

19 Leave a comment on verse 19 0 this childhood haunt this ground of dreams

20 Leave a comment on verse 20 0 this ancient football home

21 Leave a comment on verse 21 0 all on this mighty sea of life

22 Leave a comment on verse 22 0 I’ve touched on many lands

23 Leave a comment on verse 23 0 but still recall those moments passed

24 Leave a comment on verse 24 0 upon the hands of fans

“Scuse me mister – I can’t see – can you lift me up please?!”
Forever bathed in nostalgia, (I was recently dubbed ‘creaky’ by one un-enamoured ‘reader’) I was reminded of a long gone moment by a vintage photograph when crowds would pass small fans down the front and lift them over onto the surrounding track. How could I forget that feeling and honour. I guess as a small child accepting everything blindly, I totally took for granted those 60,000 crowds and the frededom and anarchy of it all. With no cover and unable to see a thing, the thrill of being hoisted madly down to the pitch and to not be chucked out when you got there was magic! That time, never to return, of being lifted like some giant bird above a heaving crowd to the coveted pitch-side view is priceless. In these politically correct and oh so health and safety minded times, it’s hard to imagine now.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/upon-the-hands-of-fans/