Football Poets

WEST GERMANY’S AND MONTEZUMA’S REVENGE..

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 mexico 1970.

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 England, the reigning champions,
despite losing to Brazil,
had reached the quarter finals,
and now had time to kill.

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Sir Alf Ramsey got the squad together,
and gave them all a lecture,
“I don’t expect you to be, choir boys,
or study local architecture.

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Have a drink by all means chaps,
but be careful where you go,
avoid the local women,
and the local H-2-O.

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Make sure you’re back by cur-few,
show some common sense,
tomorrow we’re discussing weakness’s,
in West Germany’s defense.

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Keep away from jewelry shops,
and keep out of the sun,
now go out and enjoy yourselves,
relax and have some fun.”

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 So the players strolled out into the hot mean streets,
of Guadalajara in the State of Jalisco,
some just taking in the sights,
some looking for a disco.

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Soon they split up into groups,
to see what they could see,
one group was led by Alan Clarke,
and one by Franny Lee.

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 But the leader on the pitch,
was the leader off it too,
and Bobby Moore led a group,
of just the chosen few.

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 Along with Banks and Charlton,
Terry Cooper and Geoff Hurst,
Mooro searched the dusty streets,
for a place to quench their thirst.

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 A few mad dogs walked with them,
as the sun scorched down at noon,
but then Geoff Hurst let out a roar,
when he spotted a saloon.

¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 “Welcome to my Cantina,”
said the owner looking proud.
“Gracious,” said Mooro,
as he surveyed the local crowd.

¶ 13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 Mooro bought the bar a drink,
and soon the locals joined their ranks,
and the man they all, wanted to know,
was the modest Gordon Banks.

¶ 14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 Banks had been the hero,
in the battle with Brazil,
and his save from Pele’s header,
is shown and talked of still.

¶ 15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 “Senor Banks is numero uno,”
agreed the locals to a man,
“if Pele cannot beat you,
no way Gerd Muller can.”

¶ 16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 The players they drank the local rum,
which tasted rather nice,
and Banksy started to daydream,
of lifting the cup twice.

¶ 17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 The owner put some food out,
plates of beans and rice,
and into Banksy’s drink,
he slipped some cubes of ice.

¶ 18 Leave a comment on verse 18 0 A Mariarchi band came in,
and sang old songs of yore,
of how they drove the French and Spaniards,
back to their native shore.

¶ 19 Leave a comment on verse 19 0 The English players politely clapped,
at all the local bards,
and then sat down amongst themselves,
to play a game of cards.

¶ 20 Leave a comment on verse 20 0 The drinks they kept on flowing,
as Cooper split the deck,
but Banksy’s glass resembled,
the old Titanic wreck.

¶ 21 Leave a comment on verse 21 0 As Charlton dealt the cards out,
for their upteenth game of rummy,
Banksy sudden – ly fell sick,
complaining of his tummy.

¶ 22 Leave a comment on verse 22 0 Soon the man, who was between the posts,
for the 66 World Cup,
had his head in a Mexican toilet bowl,
violently throwing up.

¶ 23 Leave a comment on verse 23 0 They made it back to their hotel,
just beating Alf’s cur – few,
but Banksy never slept that night,
just stayed awake to spew.

¶ 24 Leave a comment on verse 24 0 Next day the dreaded sweats came on,
first hot ones then of cold,
“It’s just a twenty four hour bug,”
by the team doctor Banks was told.

¶ 25 Leave a comment on verse 25 0 They wrapped poor Gordon up with towels,
and pumped him full of pills,
but next night in his hotel room,
he still shivered with the chills.

¶ 26 Leave a comment on verse 26 0 The day before the German game,
Gordon still weren’t near his best,
but Alf asked him, to get kitted out,
to take a fitness test.

¶ 27 Leave a comment on verse 27 0 Alf took a shot at Banksy,
a shot very soft and lame,
and when Gordon caught it easily,
he said, ” Right you’re playing in the game.”

¶ 28 Leave a comment on verse 28 0 Next day the players were gathered,
for a pre-match team discussion,
but half way through poor Gordon Banks,
to the toilet he was rushing.

¶ 29 Leave a comment on verse 29 0 “Don’t worry about Franz Beckenbaur,
for you the Krauts should hold no fear,”
but all that Gordon cared about,
was his fight with diarrhea.

¶ 30 Leave a comment on verse 30 0 He interrupted Ramseys speech,
and with his head held down in shame,
announced to all and sundry,
that he couldn’t play the game.

¶ 31 Leave a comment on verse 31 0 Ramsey didn’t miss a beat,
his eye lids didn’t bat,
instead he looked around the room,
and pointed to ‘The Cat.’

¶ 32 Leave a comment on verse 32 0 “You’ll start in goal Peter,
make sure you are prepared,”
he said to ‘Cat Bonetti,’
who looked terrified and scared.

¶ 33 Leave a comment on verse 33 0 So the team they went to Leon,
to fight for a semi place,
but when the game was over,
they were heading back home, in disgrace.

¶ 34 Leave a comment on verse 34 0 Up two nil and cruising,
they took Charlton off for Bell,
and the Germans took advantage,
making Bonetti’s life a hell.

¶ 35 Leave a comment on verse 35 0 The Germans finally won, three two,
to reach the final four,
and “Bonetti lost the World Cup,”
was chanted ever more.

¶ 36 Leave a comment on verse 36 0 A few days later Mexican telly,
had some happy news,
of a local man who won a fortune,
betting Eng — er — land to lose.

¶ 37 Leave a comment on verse 37 0 He not only forecast their demise,
but bet Banksy wouldn’t start,
he said it was a premonition,
from the Sacred Heart.

¶ 38 Leave a comment on verse 38 0 In his little seedy Cantina,
in a run down part of town,
he told the hoardes of media,
how God one night came down.

¶ 39 Leave a comment on verse 39 0 He served them up tequilas,
and with them shared a joke,
while Gordon Banks was on the loo,
somewhere back in Stoke.

¶ 40 Leave a comment on verse 40 0 The moral of the poem is,
abroad, folks seem so nice,
but always keep an eye out,
for the man with the cube of ice.