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Why I was late for English

non humphries

Monday, March 17th, 2008

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Usually we do not care,
about getting mud everywhere,
but today Maynard said
“Get mud on my ball and you’re all dead,
coz I keep it in my bag, see,
and if I get my books dirty, it’s the end for me”
We looked at him like he was mad,
because mud is what football’s always had,
As he was reluctant to have a truce,
Maynard looked in vain for another excuse.
“And Non’s trainers, well they are white,
And she’s got badminton later and there’ll be a fight”
I said “They won’t notice. I’ll be fine”
Maynard made a funny sign.
So we agreed ‘cuase despite it all,
we had to – it was Maynard’s ball.
“Catch it! Look at the state of your feet.
That’s it, were playing on concrete”
Came Maynard’s irritated scream,
but at least his ball was still white and clean.
We chuck down Ross’ coat as a post, we’ll use anything,
the other today happens to be a bin.
“Let me go in goals first” says I,
“nah, we can’t get you out, you’ll be in til we die!”
Ross continues “Me on the other hand..”
Gets between the “posts” and stands.
Not long before Maynard’s at it again,
he screams “Mind that puddle”, and then,
as if by magic the ball is gone,
Maynard’s shot went very wrong,
Ross said slowly “It hit the post” and so,
we looked at the “post and don’t you know,
by some murderous striker’s sin,
Maynard’s ball was in the bin.
When we got it out, it wasn’t white,
we didn’t dare laugh at Maynard’s plight.
And most of us we hurried away,
certainly no longer wanting to play,
But me and Ross, like a fool,
stayed on and helped him clean the druel,
So me and Ross were brown, black and green,
but the football? absolutely pristine.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/why-i-was-late-for-english/