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When We Were Kings.

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Our victory parade through West London streets
The beating of Don Revie’s Leeds
A balmy night replay in Athens, Greece
Socking it to Spains Real Madreed.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Dave weren’t no flashy geezer
But a thinker through and through
Fond of Robert Frost poems and The Marquis
Of Queensburys, fine noble art, he perused.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 The clear out at Chelsea, player power factions
Osgood and Hudson being eventually sold
Rumour Osgood thought himself a right double handful
Til Dave knocked The King off his throne and out cold.*

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Our envy of Rangers, with Dave at the helm
Almost winning a division one pot
Liverpool coming from behind, late at Wolves to deny them
As the fat lady sang was a shock.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Dignity and coolness, as the Rangers team thrived
With Venables, Francis and Bowles
Though it didn’t work out for Dave at United
Well ahead of his time as play showed.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 A member of the celebrated clique
Who became managers after leaving West Ham
The boy fron The Angel, winning two UEFA Championships*
As manager of the England youth team.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 At yesterday match, the fickle faithful were ranting
At our latest new boss with pure venom,
Til they remembered the nights of Old Trafford and Athens
Switched off their angst, and paid due respect to Dave Sexton!

3

Notes

Respect to the highly rated and quite rightly lauded Dave Sexton. R.I.P.

Goodnight Dave, and May Your God Go With You.

*The Angel, Islington. Used to be a tough inner city working class area of North London, and a breeding ground for: criminals, real hard nuts, boxers, etc, etc, and fledgling footballers with aspirations to play only for The Arsenal, their local side.

I had the pleasure of meeting Dave Sexton twice: once on Coventry railway station after a match, waiting for the train back to The Smoke, in the great halcyon days when the fans and the team travelled away together.

The second time was on the London Underground, Chelsea’s game at The Bridge having been snowed off, we decided to go over to The Arsenal (who had undersoil heating) to watch them play, as did Dave, who politely chatted to us and signed autographs down the tube on the way to the match, which was postponed at half-time!

Both times Dave came across as a real eighteen carat gent.

The Osgood story which was in the papers, has Dave telling Osgood to lock his office door, then they’ll sort their differences out man to man, with Osgood ending up against the wall, being held by his collar unable to move. Yet the story I heard at the time and have heard a couple of times since was that Osgood was knocked out cold, and it never went further than that. Dave’s dad having been a professional boxer, I tend to believe that one. But hey what do I know, I could well be wrong? Anyways soon after that both Osgood and Hudson were gone, and we were bang in trouble, both on and off the field.

Carefree…..

Go well and be lucky.

Peace.

Kev.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/when-we-were-kings-2/