Football Poets

Spare a thought for Crawley Town

Let’s take a pause for breath
Spare a thought
For those in distress and
Under duress
Football’s lone and forlorn voice
Whimpering in the corner
Like a neglected child
Who may have been completely
Forgotten about
Prostrate on the ground
Sniffling into its handkerchief
No sweets for you today
Little Crawley Town
Are bottom of the League
League Two, in the modern currency
Crying into their beer
Robbed and stolen of all
Worldly belongings
Or that’s how it must feel
Staring out of the window
With nothing but solitude
To haunt their savaged soul
Crawley Town
Now firmly marooned in
The loneliest river bed
Even the Sussex kingfishers
Have little in the way of sympathy
Nobody to turn to in their
Moment of greatest need
And valued friendship
The gulls are just delighted
To be beside the coastal dramas
Wallowing in Crawley’s misfortune
Or maybe not
Because we feel their pain
Recent newcomers to
Football’s cruel and merciless
Fickle finger of fate
But now Crawley are sadly adrift
Losing their bearings
No sign of human compassion
Because who cares about the
Team who could have been
And yet not now
Crawley, privately sobbing
Into estuaries of tears
Like that heartbroken sailor
Who may be lost out at sea
Waving frantically to shore
And demoralised by time
That stood still for ages
Little Crawley
Nobody gave them a damn
Fight for your own survival
For once it was Workington and Barrow
Who slouched miserably out of the
Old Fourth Division
Like downtrodden tramps
Bodies broken, only the
Streets with no name
Shuffling from one park bench
To the next
Idly and aimlessly
Lend Crawley a dime
Just for a simple cup of coffee,
Crawley seeking just a simpering smile
For down in the dark and dingy basement
At the bottom of the pile
It’s the survival of the fittest
Cold shouldered by
The high and mighty
Those with mammoth millions in the bank
Who barely acknowledge their existence
Harsh, of course it is
But Crawley will battle
For their right
To whoever they want to be
Because we still love them
And we will remember them
On their birthday and
St Valentines Day
Cards with roses
For the Reds naturally
Down by the Broadfield Stadium
They count their pennies and pounds
And wonder if, possibly,
Fortunes will change
Financially fraught now
And yet one day Arsenal, Liverpool,
Manchester United and City
Will walk elegantly into their life
Welcoming them in like
Some glorious apparition
That now seems joyfully real
And yet Crawley Town
Like a destitute wastrel
Wandering through forgotten alleyways
And along gritty pavements
But they assuredly
Will one day find their place
At the top table
Kings at the head of
The banqueting suite
Of the Premier League
If not now then sometime soon
Wishful thinking
But Crawley can
You may be sure of that
Because football hugs tenderly
Its troubled souls
With the warmest embrace
Crawley Town will always
Be the best

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