Football Poets

When England Take On Italy (FOFI Re-Mix)

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 when England take on Italy
what’s there to worry you or me?
there are no dreaded warning signs
they’ve only won the Cup four times
they are an unknown mystery
and have so little history
so little stuff that they have done
except make olives in the sun
all those roads they built to serve us
but nothing much to make us nervous
ok maybe the Tower of Pisa
the Roman Empire Julius Caeser
panacotta tiramisu or pasta and spaghetti too
and all their fancy Gucci bags
cannot compare with our tea bags
which when we’re making up a brew
stay in the cup longer than WE do
I’m sure we’ll thrash them fifteen three
when England take on Italy

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 when England take on Italy
oh why should we sleep fitfully?
we won’t need no Da Vinci Code
when Hodgson’s Army hit the road
it’s gonna be the same ol’ story
England always grab the glory
we never stoop to desperation
and will not lower expectation
our history speaks for itself
look at the trophy on our shelf
we are the finest in the land
thank God they’ve banned our dreadful band
a trusty dog is all we need
to teach us how to hold a lead
we better not play prettily
when England take on Italy

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Oh Italy oh Italy
you’ve always been a bit dodgy
your Cosa Nostra Mafia show
your match-fixing you’re so macho
your Berlusconi Mussolini
album stickers from Panini
your cappuccino coffee creamy
basil pesto and linguini
your Zola Pirlo Pavaroti
and Peroni with biscotti
in Venice you have lots of bars
but you could really use some cars
the only reason we could fail
is just like that fairy tale
we have the coach to take us all
but never want to go to the ball
I hope we don’t play dismally
when England take on Italy

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Oh Italy oh Italy
go keep your perfume from Capri
and stick you hills of Tuscany
for we’ve got Blackpool and Rooney
your girls on mopeds flying past
in dresses screaming style and class
who wave and often whisper “Ciao!”
I’d rather camp a week in Slough
your indoor fireworks – Balotelli
all that stuff by Botticelli
your singing waiters swaying hips
cannot compare with fish and chips
and you can strut in your Aramani
we’ve got egg and bacon sarnies
the world cup holds no fear at all
we’re much more dangerous off the ball
or off the pitch or left home
which is now why I won’t be going
despite this so-convincing poem
I’ll change my name to Felicity
if England conquer Italy

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