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Poems tagged ‘Everton’

Andy Burnham

So Andy Burnham
You’ve nailed your
Colours to the mast
A lifelong Toffee
Proud Mancunian
But born in Liverpool
Of course
But the former
Mayor of Manchester
Was always an Evertonian
Everton through thick and thin
Perilous relegation scraps
Wobbling on the high wire
Sharks circling
The old Goodison Park
But then there was the Messiah
Howard Kendall who came saw
And overcame the odds
That League Championship was
Always their desirable property
Everton always had some kind
Of divine right to winning the League
Because they’ve been sitting tenants
In the top flight
Since the Dark ages
The Neolithic age
And then that classic moment
In world history
When cavemen carved
Images of deer and sheep
On severely scratched walls
Before the language of hieroglyphics
Became the norm
But Andy Burnham
Don’t forget to get your feet
Under the table
At 10, Downing Street
Here are the familiar
Probing questions?
Do you remember the
1966 FA Cup Final?
Weeks before the arrival
Of the World Cup
Landed on the rich green fields
Of England’s finest
It was Sheffield Wednesday
Everton win the FA Cup
It had to be their year
Since Burnham would give
Us chapter and verse
On ancient literature
On the boys from Goodison
As somebody devoted to their
Cause from cot or crib
In the FA Cup Final
That daring bloke in
Fetching trousers,
Braces and belts
Sprinting across
The old Wembley fair acres
Coppers in hot pursuit
But the chase was fruitless
He was caught
And most certainly nicked
By our eminent boys and girls in blue
He struggled at first
And Wembley was hot with embarrassment
But fear not
The constabulary rugby tackled
Our crazy pitch invader
But Andy Burnham most assuredly
You were but an apple in the eye
Before the screams of infancy
Were released into the Goodison air
Come on you Toffees
Of course you remember Kevin Sheedy,
Paul Bracewell, Trevor Steven,
Peter Reid, the men
Who brought it back to the other
Side of Merseyside
Liverpool were reduced to sotto voce
Small, silent voices in the wilderness
Everton, League champions
1980s poster boys
When Spandau Ballet
Knew you’d strike gold
But years before
Andy Burnham
Your dad and granddad
Must have told you
About the Golden Vision
Of Alex Young
Razor sharp awareness
Passes that would
Split the atom
Plucked from the heavens
And then there were
The rhapsodies of blue
From Ball, Harvey and Kendall
Footballing lyricists
Composers of ground breaking
Movements of art nouveau
Impressionistic, or simply
Belonging to elegant silks
From Asia or Persia
But Andy Burnham
You do realise that from now on
It’s the Hill Dickinson Stadium
And David Moyes
Emperor over all he surveys
It has to be a Champions League
Place assuredly
Premier League winners
Now that’s a must
An imperative
But David Moyes
Never mention that name
At the London Stadium again
Certainly in the presence of
Claret and blue
When you go for your next run
Please recall the
Heady heights
When Bob Latchford
Scored seemingly tons
At the old Gladwys End
Roared and idolised
Worshipped at Latchford’s feet
And who could forget Martin Dobson
Orchestrator and chief conductor
In midfield toils
Dave Thomas, twisting again
Like previous summers
Winger supreme
Wrapping defenders around his fingers
Darting this way and that?
So Andy Burnham
Let’s chew some Toffees
Then fruit from the orchards
Of the Hill Dickinson
Forget the grim, melancholy
Faces of Harry Catterick and
Gordon Lee or maybe fondly
Cast your minds back
To happier days
When Catterick and Lee
Could do no wrong
So one Andy Burnham,
There’s only one Andy Burnham
Chant it in mellifluous tones
Let’s lead the country to
Yet greater victories
From the often toxic corridors
Of the House of Commons
Westminster, your new
Spiritual home
But Everton in your heart
You’ll support them
Forever more

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Who’s That Guy Between The Sticks?

If you go to Hilly Dicks,
There’s a man between the sticks.
City slicks and country hicks,
They all have one ideé fixe:
Who’s that guy between the sticks?
Pickford, Pickford.
So hard past him goals to stick,
Pickford, Pickford, Pickford.
Who’s that guy between the sticks?
All the boxes he sure ticks.
Pickford, Pickford, Pickford.

And the world is looking on,
As folk turn their tellies on.
From Gabon to Washington,
Every Harry, Dick and Tom:
Who’s that guy between the sticks?
Pickford, Pickford.
Blinding saves and long goal-kicks,
Pickford, Pickford, Pickford.
Who’s that guy between the sticks?
Always right there in the mix,
Pickford, Pickford, Pickford.

Other goalies are worth nix,
Off our Jordan keep your mitts.
We don’t care how many quids
In our kitty you might stick.
Cos he’s staying ‘twixt our sticks,
Pickford, Pickford.
Safe hands his, so rarely slips,
Pickford, Pickford, Pickford.
So get down to Hilly Dicks,
Watch our Picks perform his tricks,
Pickford, Pickford, Pickford!

10/1/26
Denys E. W. Jones

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Once at Goodison

I am proud
I was only once at Goodison

But I was

Even now as I write

I am watching my only Goodison match
on YouTube pointing at
The Park End where I was sitting

But would you like to know
which players I was watching live
at my only Goodison visit?

Theye were
Cadamarteri, Ferguson, Barmby
Cadamarteri, Ferguson, Barmby
Cadamarteri, Ferguson, Barmby

They tried everything
I was at the Park End behind the goal

I had history in my hand by purchasing
An Audio Cassette in which Dixie Dean was speaking

With the famous expression “there is only one man who can do that”

Thinking who is going to break his record

There were printed autographs

Of all the players on my scarf that I bought that day

I was at the Park End watching
Cadamarteri, Ferguson and Barmby

Cadamarteri, Ferguson and Barmby

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Icarus

Remember the Greek Myth of Icarus?
He flew much too close to the Sun.
The wax on his wings it all melted.
He fell back to earth with a bump.

We Toffees we are a bit like him.
For a short spell we moved up to fifth.
But now we have slipped down four places.
It looks like our wings have been clipped.

15/12/25
Denys E. W. Jones

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Idrissa Gana Gueye

Idrissa
Idrissa Gana Gueye

He is the finest forward I’ve seen
and the finest the world has ever seen

On November under a dark Heaven
With the winter coming

The Heat and Warm just came
With the goal at Dickinson Hill
by Idrissa Gana Gueye

Everton vs Fulham 1:0
He is the finest forward I’ve seen
and the finest the world has ever seen

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Jack Grealish Limerick

Have you heard of a player called Jack Grealish?
He played his football with great relish.
Except under Pep,
Who him on the bench kept,
But now he once more off the leash is.

25/8/25
Denys E. W. Jones

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Thirty Years Ago

It was thirty years ago today,
In a very merry month of May,
We’d been playing all year long with flair,
We were slicker than young Tony Blair,
So we’re calling just to remind you,
That we’re able to win Trophies too,
So let’s hear it for the Boys in Blue!

We’re called the Other Team On Merseyside,
Our real name is Everton.
Three decades now since we won Silverware,
And still the wait goes on and on.
Days, weeks, months, years slip by,
Days, weeks, months, years slip by,
Days, weeks, months, years slip by,
Yet no joy.

Hey, now Fortune’s gonna turn around,
We’ve new owners and a brand new Ground,
We’ll be sorry to leave Goodison,
But we’ve made a break and must move on.
Yes, it seems like things are looking up,
Next season we might win the Cup,
And if we do, be sure, we’ll let you know…

20/5/25
Denys E. W. Jones

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Tarky Pooper

The Reds were celebrating,
All primed and set to party.
They thought they had the match wrapped up,
They’d reckoned without Tarky.

The game was drawing to a close,
Just seconds on the clock.
The Koppites singing joyfully,
But then a Blue Shirt struck…

The Hour had come, the Man came too,
Tarkowski was his name.
He fired in a thunderbolt,
To earn undying fame.

The Reds thought they had clinched it.
Believed our fate was sealed.
But Tarky pooped their party,
He simply would not yield!

14/2/25
Denys E. W. Jones

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David Moyes’s Blue and White Army 2025

They said we were ungrateful,
When we sacked Allardyce.
I dread to think what folk will say,
Now that we’ve dumped Sean Dyche.

But football is a business,
There is no place for ruth.
If you can’t prove you’re good enough,
You’ll surely get the boot.

Sean Dyche could not quite cut it.
We’ll cut him no more slack.
He’s had his marching orders,
And David Moyes is back!

He managed us some years ago,
A quite good job he did.
So can he do the trick again?
Not everyone’s convinced.

But love him, lump him, loathe him,
I say to every fan:
“It’s Davey in the Dugout now,
So get behind the man!”

12/1/25
Denys E. W. Jones

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Everton Back in the Day

Do you recall Everton back in the day?
In years long gone by, before Ninety-Five?

Up front we had men who could stick it away,
Like Bill Dean, Bob Latchford, McKenzie and Gray.

Our midfielders shone like a high-noon sun’s ray.
A joy to behold, such skills on display.

Ball passed to a Blue Shirt, not given away.
With always somebody to dictate the play.

Our rock-hard defence kept attackers at bay.
And as for our Keepers, there’s nowt we need say.

Except that they pulled off incredible saves.
And never dropped balls on which forwards might prey.

That we gathered Trophies it goes without saying.
It’s hardly surprising, the way we were playing.

But now we’re in danger, as none can gainsay.
One point ‘bove the Drop Zone with nineteen to play.

Yet we’ll keep our heads cool, our nerves calm will stay.
We shall not lose heart, we’ll still keep the Faith.

Sure after these dark times a new dawn shall break,
And all of our critics will see how we’ll play:

Like Everton, Everton back in the day!

7/1/25
Denys E. W. Jones

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Source: https://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/everton/