Football Poets

YOUNG BERTIE HISLOP,NO MANS LAND HERO.

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 HE was born in 1899, Bert Hislop was his name,
and from the time he kicked a ball,
he was a natural for the game.

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 From a tiny Yorkshire village,
where the men worked down the pit,
his father told him , you won’t breath coal,
you’ll wear a football kit.

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Even at his young age,
scouts were on the prowl,
will he play for Sheff Unitedl
or become an Owl.

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Would he join Preston North End,
across the old Pennines,
only thing they knew was,
he’d never work inside the mines.

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Then came 1914, and the war to end all wars,
and a generation of young men,
arrived on Gallic shores.

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 One day recruiters came to town,
to sign up volunteers,
and Bertie Hislop to his age added several years.

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 Lord Kitchener,told the volunteers,
the war would all be fun.
Over by Christmas time,
but he didn’t say which one.

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Despite plesa from his family,
and local football side,
Bertie headed off to France,
upon a Dover tide.

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 His home became a muddy trench,
all waterlogged and cold,
and his only simple pleasure was,
the cigarettes he rolled.

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 As he stared into the mud,
he saw his local pitch at home,
where he left defenders in his wake,
as down the wing he’d roam.

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 They said he’d play for England,
before he’s twenty-one,
but Bertie gave it all up
to go and fight the Hun.

¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 While artillery fire and charges,
played havoc with the nerves,
Bertie dreamt of beating men
with his body swerves.

¶ 13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 He dreamt of Yorkshire pudding,
and his mothers mushy peas,
and how he wished he’d stayed at home,
and listened to her pleas.

¶ 14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 Bertie wrote a letter home
on a freezing Christmas Eve
telling them he’d soon be home,
on a two week leave.

¶ 15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 He said he’d miss the Christmas cake,
the presents and the trifles,
but he had to stay and fight the Huns
with his fellow Yorkshire Rifles.

¶ 16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 Then dot on midnight came a sound,
from a German trench nearby,
as ‘Silent Night’ in German
filled the Belgium sky.

¶ 17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 “All of us are Saxons,we only hate the French,”
was shouted at the English lines
from the German trench.

¶ 18 Leave a comment on verse 18 0 “Happy Christmas Fritz.”
came a voice from the English line,
and ” happy Christmas Tommy,”
replied the men from across the Rhine.

¶ 19 Leave a comment on verse 19 0 On a frosty Christmas morning,
beneath a clear blue Flemish sky,
Bertie and his colleagues weren’t prepared to die.

¶ 20 Leave a comment on verse 20 0 They dipped into their rations,
and soon began to sing,
first some Christmas carols
then ‘God Save the King.’

¶ 21 Leave a comment on verse 21 0 As the German trench responded,
with the carol ‘Good King Wensless’
a Boche strolled into no mans land,
totally defenseless.

¶ 22 Leave a comment on verse 22 0 He was joined by a couple more,
the schnapps had made them brave,
and towards the English trenches
they gave a friendly wave.

¶ 23 Leave a comment on verse 23 0 So the men of the Yorkshire Rifles,
all put down there guns,
and climbed over the parapet
to greet the friendly Huns.

¶ 24 Leave a comment on verse 24 0 Hands were shook,photos swapped,
ciggs given out like candy,
and German schnapps was guzzled
along with English brandy.

¶ 25 Leave a comment on verse 25 0 A couple of Highlanders with a ball,
came to join the banter,
and soon two goal posts were put down,
each a tam a shanter.

¶ 26 Leave a comment on verse 26 0 With their comical pork pie hats,
the Germans did the same,
and before you could say Franz Beckanbaur
you had an international game.

¶ 27 Leave a comment on verse 27 0 Lots were drawn by soldiers,
to see who’d make the side,
and Bertie got the right wing spot
which filled him up with pride.

¶ 28 Leave a comment on verse 28 0 He terrorized the Germans,
almost from the start,
but not with a machine gun
but with his skill— and heart.

¶ 29 Leave a comment on verse 29 0 The game was never dirty,
they’d both seen too much blood,
but not an inch was given
on the frozen Ypres mud.

¶ 30 Leave a comment on verse 30 0 The Germans took and early lead in the morning cold,
and Bert removed his trench coat,
and up his sleeves he rolled.

¶ 31 Leave a comment on verse 31 0 The English ventured forward,
with non stop goal attacks,
but they couldn’t rattle Germany
and their stoic backs.

¶ 32 Leave a comment on verse 32 0 Then young Bertie, beat two Huns with a swivel of his hips,
and he beat the German keeper with the most delicate of chips.

¶ 33 Leave a comment on verse 33 0 They swapped ends at half time,
with the score one —-one
and straight after the break
Bert went on a run.

¶ 34 Leave a comment on verse 34 0 With a drop of his young shoulders,
and his famous body swerve,
he left defenders in his wake
as in the ball he curved.

¶ 35 Leave a comment on verse 35 0 The Tommy’s on the side
jumped when he scored,
and even the German players,
stood back and applaud.

¶ 36 Leave a comment on verse 36 0 But the Germans were resilient
and refused to fall,
and a blonde aryan head
soon made the score two all.

¶ 37 Leave a comment on verse 37 0 “Feed the ball to Hislop, ”
came the side line shouts,
as the Tommy’s soaked up pressure
from the skilful Krauts.

¶ 38 Leave a comment on verse 38 0 Then Bertie started off,
on one of his mazy runs,
leaving in his wake a bewildered bunch of Huns.

¶ 39 Leave a comment on verse 39 0 He dribbled round the goalie,
and popped it in to score,
and everyone on No mans land
forgot about the war.

¶ 40 Leave a comment on verse 40 0 The Germans then pressed forward,
to try and score their third,
but the game was abruptly ended
when a single shot was heard.

¶ 41 Leave a comment on verse 41 0 Captain Wainwright removed his pistol,
and fired it in the air
and ordered all the Tommy’s back into their lair.

¶ 42 Leave a comment on verse 42 0 Bert returned to the trench
carried shoulder high,
a hero in a brilliant match that history would deny.

¶ 43 Leave a comment on verse 43 0 The history books will tell you,
of hat tricks by Geoff Hurst,
but they won’t acknowledge Bert Hislop,
who buried his one first.

¶ 44 Leave a comment on verse 44 0 They’ll mention one man shows,
Malcolm McDonalds’ five v Cyprus
but they won’t tell of Bertie Hislop
in no mans land in Ypres.

¶ 45 Leave a comment on verse 45 0 Captain Wainwright told the troops,
he sincerely apologized
” I had to stop the game
before they equalized.”

¶ 46 Leave a comment on verse 46 0 ” One thing you’ll someday learn chaps,
when you get as old as me,
is you never let the Germans
take you to penal–ties.

¶ 47 Leave a comment on verse 47 0 You’ll beat them at warfare,
at rugger and at cards,
but you’ll never beat the bastards
at scoring from twelve yards.”

¶ 48 Leave a comment on verse 48 0 The night before his leave,
Bert took sentry duty
dreaming of his second goal
which everyone called a beauty.

¶ 49 Leave a comment on verse 49 0 He heard a sound in No mans land,
and foolishly raised his head,
and a seasoned German sniper
shot Bert Hislop dead.

¶ 50 Leave a comment on verse 50 0 In a desolate mining village,
which Maggie helped destroy,
there lies a grave upon the hill
of a heroic Yorkshire boy.

¶ 51 Leave a comment on verse 51 0 The stone says BERTRUM HISLOP
15 years 200 days,
killed in action YPRES
and in this ground he lays.

¶ 52 Leave a comment on verse 52 0 So when you list your English heros
and put Beckham at the top,
spare a thought for NO MANS LAND,
and a bloke called BERT HIS-LOP.