Poems tagged ‘Euros’
The girls have done it again
Yes they’re once, twice
If not quite three times
A lady
Twice though will suffice
For now
The English girls do it again
Can you believe it?
Euro champions again
Gasps of jubilation
Let’s do the Hokey Cokey
Around Eros, Nelson’s Column
Waltzing around the Wurlitzer
In the timeless splendour
Of Blackpool’s seaside raptures
England girls, ladies
Forget those disgraceful
Sexist cliches
No longer the weaker
You’ve won the Euros
Again, it really doesn’t
Get any better
Men, you can come out
From behind the sofa
Cowering in shame
Equality confirmed
And last the Spanish
Senoritas
Are given a taste of
Their own sangria
And yet what a painful struggle
For the Lionesses
Never in the game
If truth be told
Second best
Spain capture their prey
From so early on
Passes like pearls of
Wisdom, tika taka
The complete article
Spain, like heavenly angels
Who blessed the Swiss earth
Rather like their male
Counterparts,
Quick, sharp one twos
Circular, triangular
Short and sweet feet
And stunning staccato
A mirror image of the
Men folk who now
Have both World Cups and
Euro trophies
In their portfolio
Now the ladies take
The ultimate, grand stage
Printing their
Measured football
At times and yet
Not quite up to the usual
Standards of excellence
But let us pretend
Of course it was
Another Lionesses masterclass
If not quite
The one we were hoping for
Tapping morse code out
Across the wide acres
Of fresh green Swiss grass
Spain take the reins
The female matadors exclaim
Ole, Ole, Ole,
It looked to be their night
Of Una Paloma Blanca
Shuffling the ball
Among themselves
In quiet conspiracies
A mystical collusion
Of arts and crafts
It’s what we’ve come to expect
Spain take the lead inevitably
Heads they win
But then slowly but surely
The womanly wiles and guiles
Of Sarina’s England
Take back the conductor’s baton,
Leah, Beth, Lucy, Alex and
Then the gracious Chloe Kelly
Deliver their bumper crop of
Blonde pig tails and the
Crucial equaliser
Just when it mattered
When hope seemed to be
Seeping out of tiring souls
Leaning back in the Spanish
Six yard box
And twisting her header
Into the back of the onion bag
Chloe Kelly, you’re a
Diamond lady
And finally it was penalties
Rather like the National Anthem
For both the girls and boys
How many more times
Do we have to repeat it?
That noisome narrative
It’s almost in every
Nail biting moment in
English football’s
Horrific and yet terrific history
This time the girls
Got it right after
The debacle of Sweden
Where penalties almost
Landed in Zurich banks
Sweden miss, England miss
The ball that is
Sweden score, England score
Oh it was all so frightening
And unbearable
For a moment we were in
The English territory of
World Cup Italia 9O
Sir Bobby’s buoyant blokes
Waddle and Pearce
Blast their penalties into
Roman allotment sites
Then Euro 96 when El Tel’s
Tenacious terriers
Fall at the last hurdle
And Sir Gareth Southgate
Wearily walks into the world
Of satire, lampoon and pizzas
Penalty driven straight into
German goalkeeper’s torso
And so to last night
The girls show us how to do
It and the men will turn
Away in utter embarrassment
Next year Thomas Tuchel
Please, please bring it home
World champions
Is it too much to ask?
Anyway let’s bask in the
Glow of the Lionesses
Drinking in the champagne
Moment of European champions
Chloe drills the ball
Home from the penalty spot
England, two consecutive
Victories and champs again
Oh it has happened
We knew they could do it.
Tell The Rest This : Lionesses Never Stop Believin’
even if you’ve been outpassed
and at times a tad outclassed
though attacks come thick and fast
leave your doubts all in the past
when you’re way past second guesses
when the odds are far from even
tell the rest this : Lionesses
never stop believin’
tiki tika pleasing eyes
doesn’t always win the prize
shapes and pattern don’t win games
we have shown this once again
sheer resistance underlies
how these girls again surprise
fighting pressure with high presses
sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason
tell the rest this : Lionesses
never stop believin’
never mind your Bonmati
Paralleulo or Caldentey
we’ve got Russo we’ve got James
we’ve got subs that alter games
skipping on like kids at school
Chloe Kelly breaks the rules
Hannah’s strength between the sticks
Hemp forever in the mix
from the tightest scrapes and messes
like the beauty of each season
tell the rest this : Lionesses
never stop believin’
Italy semi finally conquered
Oh England why do you keep
Doing this over and over again?
Here we were on tenterhooks
Nerves shattered, battered
Clinging on for dear life
Taken to the edge
With the finest wedge
All so dramatic,
Then unbearably traumatic
We could hardly watch
Since this was problematic
But the girls have done it again
You took us to the places
Among familiar faces
We never thought we were beaten
Ten out of ten
Deep into the bowels
Where there can be no vowels
Italy beaten by England
Now that’s a sentence
We’ve been longing to utter
Like a knife through butter
Since the men were beaten
In Euros Final of recent vintage
England then at their
Lowest voltage
But the ladies are back
In yet another throne room
Where triumphs may loom
Where crowns of European trophies
Are fittingly placed
On victorious heads
No time for early nights
And beds
England girls it could be
Your turn again
Prepared to be bestowed
With resplendent gifts
No more tiffs
With those who have questioned
Your right to be there, here
Right now
Wipe that fevered brow
Become European queens
Italy, straining with every limb
With every pass, tackle, shot
Ankle and shin
At times you were reminded
Of the men at Wembley
A couple of years ago
When it all went against
The tide and natural flow
Then an early lead
Sitting comfortably
On the shoulder of giants
Far too good for those
Neapolitan warriors
Then the second half imploded
Then completely exploded
Gareth’s heart sunk like a stone
Dejection and hopes flown
Italy shrewder and savvier
On the night
Mancini gets his
Second half psychology
Absolutely right
And yet it felt so much better
Revenge tasted infinitely sweeter
Perhaps the elusive Cornetto
No more falsetto
Girls you left it far
Too late
But better that than
Ever
Lucy, Beth, Georgia,
Chloe
And then underneath
The Greenwood tree
Alex, you were there
And delivered and presented
Preened and proper
Aggie, like the
Brightest bulb
Shining, wining and dining
At the most bountiful banquet
Gorging on scraps
No time for naps
On that night of all nights
Then tough, rough
Resourceful when it mattered
No longer tattered
Leah Williamson
So controlling and holding
Giving and going
Productive and destructive
Cool and composed
In the boiler room
And finally Ella
She gave us
The most appropriate Toone
For so long though
It seemed that the country
Who produced such
The ultimate operatic aura
Boticelli and Rossini
With shades of genius
For all to see
Now though Barbara Bonansea
Gave the girls of Italy
A shot in the arm
Against all conceivable odds
Italy in front
But England certainly not gone
Sarina, like a flying Dutchwoman
Surveys her female empire
England, never daunted just vaunted
Winners, when the sinners
Thought they’d transgressed
But we were blessed
Last night with Michelle
Agyemang, wrenched England
From the dankest. bleakest
Dungeon of defeat
And then with seconds to go
Chloe Kelly stepped up
And then seemingly stopped
On teetering toes
Kelly’s eye not in vision
Penalty missed
Driven firmly to the keeper’s
Grateful torso
But then Kelly side footed home
With the sharpest anticipation
The winning goal
It’s Spain or Germany
In the Euro 2025 Final
We couldn’t have foreseen this
Could it be the Germans?
Now there’s history in the making
Two Final victories
In quick succession
It’s OK men
You’re forgiven
As long as you
Can replicate the
Ladies heroic feats
In American, Mexican
And Canadian World Cup
Extravaganzas
Next year
It’s time to bury
What will be 60 years
Of pain and humiliation
But the English girls
Get the job done
If only just
England beat Sweden.
Hearts beating like
Pounding snare drums
Blood pressure soaring
Into the stratosphere
Nails bitten to the quick
England girls
Through to the
Euro 2025 semi finals
And the Azzurri await
Italy calling over the
Mediterranean turbulence
But oh how close England were
To the departure gates
Devoted England fans
Staring despairingly
Through England’s jittery nerves
England, this time the beneficiaries of
Yet another penalty shoot out
Scandinavia poised to send
England toppling and hurtling
Towards the exit point
Sweden, two up in no time
And suddenly it looked
So dark and ominous
For Sarina’s belles of the ball
The men were quivering behind
A thousand pizzas and pies
Back at home
Tubes of Doritos and
All manner of savoury snacks
Devoured nervously
Oh girls don’t let us down now
You’ve come so far
But then the country of
Flat pack furniture
Salty herring
And the legendary ABBA
Turn the tables on England
A yellow flash of lightning
Pierces and then punctures
Our romantic visions
Of yet more tantalising triumph
And then a clap of thunder
Over the picture postcard Alps
England strike back
Sweden, hitherto sailing and cruising
Towards the shimmering, rippling waters
Of the Euro 2025 semi final
Before alarming cracks in the brickwork
Of Swedish security
A Nordic meltdown
First Lucy Bronze
Discovers her Olympic medal
A goal from the Greek heroines
It was all so unbearably
Excruciating, edge of seat
Chinese water torture
But hold on we’re in
Familiar territory here
The men have done this to us
For ages
We should be conditioned to
These terrifying nights
Of drama, potential heartache
But the girls have
Been reading a different script
The ladies have the Midas touch
Minutes and seconds to go
Before England are given their P45
Sacked and fired in pretty Switzerland
But not out, not this time
Michelle Agyemang the ultimate saviour
Salvation is at hand
Fling out the ropes,
We’ve got you England
Pulled back onto the shore
Safe and sound
Agyemang equalises
Hope springs eternal
Cliches multiply
No more goals
Before penalties grip
The nervous system
The agony, then the ecstasy
It always come down to this
England quivering wrecks
Fans clamp fingers across eyelids
This emotional minefield
That has now become an English
Soap opera over and over again
Tension on the fevered brows
Of 70 million foreheads
Sweat dripping like a
Multitude of kitchen taps
Oh the never ending
Palpitations, please no more
And so England through to the
Last four
Of England 2025
Breathe slowly, deeply
You’re almost on the
Threshold of yet more
Euro winning celebrations
But then we knew they would
Italy, be prepared
For a battle royale
Ladies take a bow
It was worth it in the end
Well, I never
Oh yes, finally again
Against the odds
The impossible dream
Glorious Blighty
Standing on the shoulders
Of 1966 when
Sir Geoff Hurst
Spun a hat-trick
Of World Cup jubilation
But now it’s happening again
Once again England
Reach the land of fairy tales
Fantasies fulfilled
Oh England, England
It almost seems as
If, at any moment,
Somebody will jolt us
From our sleep
And it was just some
Ridiculous illusion
Gareth in Wonderland
Forget the dull functionality
Of the preliminaries
The grey ordinariness
Of those plodding, walking,
Hesitating, grinding to
A painful standstill, moments
Of wretched, plain awful
Football with no bite
Little or no idea or purpose
Going around in ever increasing circles
And hitting Swiss, Slovakian and Slovenian
Walls of stubborn intransigence
Dwelling on the ball for
Several seasons of the year
Where were England going
Until somebody jabbed us
In the ribs?
And startled us into proactive
Action packed vibrancy
Against those orange cloggers
From the Netherlands
No more recycling in Amsterdam
Take your leisure
By the all embracing canals
With hashish cake for breakfast
But we love the Dutch
Because you gave us the joyous
Windmills of Mick Channon
In his Southampton and City pomp
But tonight Villa’s finest
Ollie Watkins
Pulled it out of the
Magician’s hat
In that Roy of the Rovers
90th minute winner
Of gold,
Burnished in history
66 million blood pressures
Soaring into a far distant
Stratosphere
Hearts palpitating so fast
That it took another
Cliff hanging climax
First the flying Dutchman
Took aeronautical engineering
To another dimension
With opening goal
Before minutes later
Harry Kane became
That exemplary Citizen Kane
Oh, if only Orson Wells
Could have been here
On this night of nights
Harry’s studs caught,
A blatant trip
Penalty tucked away
In the postage stamp
Of the net
Level pegging
Parity for ages
Honours even
For seemingly an eternity
English and Dutch
Allies to so many
In the bloodiest of wars
But now joined at the hip
End to end
In basketball mode
Nothing between them
Thrilling, gripping
Intoxication in every
Village, city and town pub
Across Middle England
Sleepy for so many years
But now leaping out of bed
Flinging open the blinds
Sunshine floods through
Anglo Saxon tributaries
Victory rubber stamped
Y Viva Espana on Sunday
For Gareth’s sweat soaked icons
Spain in the Euro 2024
Final.
England, the luckiest team
Of them all
But who cares?
We’ve done it
Berlin on Sunday
Fortune favours the brave
It’s been 58 years in
The waiting
But who’s to say that fate
Indeed maybe wearing
A white shirt?
They said we were crazy
And delusional to think
That England couldn’t
But reigning against Spain
It has a ring about it
Sangrias all around
So close to the exit gate
Oh woe, what torture,
What agony and purgatory
Why do we keep doing it
To ourselves?
Seconds away from the
Departure gate of
Euro2024 and suddenly
Jude did indeed
Take a sad song
And improve it
Most remarkably
But there we were
Waiting at the baggage carousel
Despairing of ever
Finding our suitcases
Probably in Munich
Or Frankfurt
But passports
Not required
Since Jude Bellingham
Saved our neck
When it looked
As if we were doomed
To Business class
On Virgin’s finest plane
Home again
For what seemed a lifetime
England were just clueless
Without even a glimpse
Of imagination in their
Mind set
Backwards, forwards, sideways
Vertical and horizontal
Slow waltzes in evidence
On the pitch,
Toothless,
Moody and melancholy
Static and statuesque
11 mannequins in
A German shop window
Military two steps at times
Passes destined
For nobody in particular
Stunted and blunted
Dull as ditchwater
England stuck in treacle
Even Slovakia made us
Look like a Hackney Marshes 11
Thank goodness Jude
Real Madrid’s most magnificent
Overhead bicycle kick
To treasure for ever
Wondrous leveller
From nowhere
Before Harry Kane
Underlined the signature
Moment of Jude’s life
And England’s salvation
The winner who
Nobody would ever
Have expected
How time stopped
For England
And how close
They were from
Coming home
Amid shame again
Yet still we go
Against Switzerland
Swiss, please don’t miss
Don’t roll over
With tummy tickled
Gareth Southgate’s
Possible last chance
Saloon
England let’s go
It’s now or never
So here we are England
The day before the
Morning mists welcome
The vicars and bicycles who
Trundle down long forgotten
Country lanes
The post man and woman
Cheerily whistle that
Inevitable victory
For Gareth Southgate’s
11 of the best
It’s now or never
Make or break
Obliterate Denmark,
Serbia and Slovenia
From your mind
This is judgment day
A weekend for nail
Biting, teeth chattering
Hiding behind sofas
And, of course Chesterfield
Now there’s a jolly witticism
Tomorrow’s world though,
It’s time to sit and up
And take notice
No more inquests
Back page investigations
Red top tabloid barbs
Childish nit picking
England, your country needs you
To just win
It’s knockout football
And you’re on
The cameras will be
Monitoring your every breath,
That crucial body language
This is the business end
Of Euro 2024
No more caution or fear
Sunday introspection
The group stage sparring
Is officially over
Time to don those
Decisive shooting boots
Of purple, green or yellow
Polka dot hue
And steamroller over
Slovakia
A country of five point four million
People or so we believe
Land locked between
Poland and Romania
Gareth, it’s a piece of cake
Slovakia, of course
Novices at this level
It can’t be that hard
England, surely not
Another struggle
And survival of the fittest
Let’s topple over this
Minor obstacle
But maybe not
Perhaps it’ll be
Complicated as
The Rubik’s Cube
90 minutes of huffing and puffing
Sweating and seething
Crashing into brick walls
No way through
Oh, England this
Eternal mystery,
Making mountains out of
Molehills
Refrain from these infuriating
Bouts of stage fright
Muddled thinking
On paper it should be
Like picking apples from trees
Simple as the times table
Or the ABC
England
That patchwork quilt
Of chocolate box meadows
And sprawling green fields
A picture postcard
From the village souvenir shop
Tomorrow we ask you kindly
Let’s hit the ground running
Immediately
No time for dithering, dallying,
Stepping on the ball indefinitely
Drawing cropped circles
On that green pasture of land
Of fertile German soil
Take Slovakia to the cleaners
We implore you to be ruthless,
Heartless, cruel to be kind
But for a while just models of
Callousness and brutality
But in a legal way of course
So Declan, Bukayo, Phil, Conor,
Marc and John guarding
At the back
Oh yes and Hey Jude
Take a sad song
And make it better
England’s ingenious inventor
Be ready and prepared
For Sunday services
Of triumphant melodies
Tomorrow our hearts
Will be with you
Unquestionably
We need a performance
Some kind of tune
Where hope springs eternal
And any suggestion
That football may be
Coming home
England, oh England
Thank goodness for that
Unbearably slow
90 minutes of slow motion
England reduced to walking pace
Just strolling along the prom
Tedious as the Test Card
If only they’d finished
That last game of noughts
And crosses
Through to the next round
But, oh, for the doubts
Questions and reservations
Not nearly good enough
Against equally as sluggish
Slovenia
Surely the worst
Trio of displays
In Euros history
Still, top of their group
But then England gaze
Into the eyes
Of football’s
Distinguished European
Giants of the universe
And privately tremble
Italy, Spain, France,
Germany, even Portugal
On the evidence of last night
It’s a quick flight home
Back to this green and pleasant land
Not a hope, nor any sign
Of further progress
England, to all appearances
Like men tied together
With a thick rope
At times it felt like
A tug of war
Pulling and pushing
That Slovenian low
Block, Eastern bloc
Rather like pulling teeth
In that dentist’s chair
Go steady with those fillings
And gnashing molars
England, just painful and horrific
At times
Driving headlong into
Cul-de-sacs and
Infuriating traffic jams
Nowhere to go
Rice, Bellingham, Saka
And Foden too
Just trapped in
The land of nowhere
All tangled and twisted
Into a thousand knots
Hinting at goals
But just speculation and
Rumour, little
Concrete evidence
Of where this might lead
It could be
That Gareth’s 11
Could be testing the water
Palmer and Mainoo
Could they be the
Definitive answer?
England, jabbing and sparring
Tentatively and agonisingly
Sporadic hooks and upper cuts
But nothing that suggests
European Champions
We doubt it
Searching for treasures
And yet last night
Barricaded in
Entrances locked
Staggering and stumbling
Through dark alleyways
Italy, France, Germany,
Spain and Portugal
You can almost hear
Them giggling like
Schoolboys with
Victorious conkers
Sorry Gareth
Much more of last night
And it’s a plane
For Gareth Southgate
Your time may be up
We hope not
Farewell, Scotland
They’ll always have their Hogmany
Auld Lang Syne
Amid the rousing skirl of
Heart warming bagpipes
But Scotland are on their
Way back home
The fading odours of
Whisky and a wee dram
Consolation none at all
This was never going
To be an easy watch
Since Germany were
Light years ahead
Of the noble cities
Such as Edinburgh and Glasgow
Dundee and Aberdeen
And Switzerland had only
To hear the Alpine flugelhorn
With tinkling cowbells
To leave the Sassenach spirits
With too many mountains
To climb and reach
Goodbye Tartan army
With your navy roars
Of historical
Flags of honour and
Gallantry, of course
Time to forget what
Might have been
The penalty that should
Have been given
All hypothesis
William Wallace,
Mary Queen of Scots,
Billy Connolly
Sean Connery
They’ll be raising a toast
In the lochs and glens
No shame or regret
Proud Bonny Scotland
But Hungary
Perhaps briefly doffing
A deferential cap
To the vastly incomparable
Puskas
He must have been foremost
In Budapest minds
A winner at the end
Switzerland, Spain and Italy
Bouncing Albanians
Arms linked in show
Of solidarity
Yet Italian stallions
Like stately galleons
Just kept passing
Never fasting
Goals galore
Swiss never miss
To gobble up Hungarian
Goulash for lunch
Spanish armadas
Strike with pretty panache
Bull fighters in perfect disguise
Croatia never in the same ball park
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Welcome to Football Poets -- a club for all football poets, lovers of football and lovers of (alternative) poetry. Discover poets in every league from respected internationals at the top of their game to young hopefuls in the school playground.
Publish your football poems here and then discuss them with your team mates and fans. We're archived by The British Library, so your masterpieces are in the safe hands of a world-class keeper. What a result!
Latest Poems
Phil Brennan
3rd August 2026
joe morris
2nd August 2026
Phil Brennan
30th July 2026
joe morris
30th July 2026
Jason Prasad
28th July 2026
Denys E. W. Jones
26th July 2026
joe morris
26th July 2026
Jason Prasad
22nd July 2026
joe morris
21st July 2026
Phil Brennan
21st July 2026
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
28th July 2026 at 9:40 pm
Hi Denys. Thanks for your kind words. I could have mentioned Dixie Dean but decided not to.
Best wishes, mate
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26th July 2026 at 3:47 pm
Great knowledge of Everton history, Joe.
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23rd July 2026 at 6:54 pm
Hi Jason,
Sorry I forgot to congratulate you on your excellent poem as well.
Keep well
Joe
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23rd July 2026 at 6:43 pm
Hi Jason,
Thanks so much for your kind words about Kevin Keegan, a footballer of legendary status and deeply missed.
Best wishes
Joe
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23rd July 2026 at 12:01 pm
Thank you, Crispin. I will defo encorage my bunch to contribute and will of course clear it with staff room.
Many thanks
Jase
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22nd July 2026 at 6:48 pm
Great poem Jase.
You are a man of my own heart …
And great to hear that you your students poems from our site.
Keep on and more please
if ever some of your students write anything suitable for here and most importantly they give you permission to publish them, you can always do so under your name referencing their names and the school..and year.
Best Crispin
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22nd July 2026 at 10:29 am
I think this is best thing I have read so far about the legend. Thanks
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22nd July 2026 at 10:22 am
One of the greats, inspired my generation of school kids in the 80s
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23rd May 2026 at 3:35 pm
Hi Crispin,
Thanks for the featured poem for the Arsenal Premier League victory. I love that photo showing the Arsenal ladies and fans in full rattle and rosette mode. I’ve seen it before quite a few times and, I think, a bit iconic. I think it was before the Gunners victory against Liverpool in the 1950 FA Cup Final. Great photograph.
Thanks
Joe
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8th May 2026 at 4:21 pm
Thanks for that Joe. Yes it’s been some season we had a blip but came out of it and finished strong. A mate of mine supports West Ham here in Coventry and my next door neighbour is a Spurs supporter, and both are getting edgy ! I like the Championship though as it’s competitive and has some good teams, players, and fans. Anyway we are back in the top flight and who knows what will happen ?
Cheers. Kev.
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