Poems tagged ‘London Rivalry’

I Wonder. Did I Ever Tell Yer…

Knew this fella, knew a fella
Old lags in The Boob together
For a little bit a TDA, while absolutely stocious drunk?
Every Saturday after-noon, in their cell
They joshed each other merry hell
Tuned in to Five-Live, lounging on her Madge’s bunk.

“Kev, we didn’t hardly ever ruck
Life in our Dingly? Sweet as hazel-nut
Till in The Derby, Tottnem miss a sitter
The sarcastic comments, guy lets fly
Set-off a ginormous hue n cry
Turning Spurs fans on our landing proper bitter.

Blimey, if only I tumbled him a Gooner
Would a dropped the loser sooner
T’was him what caused me stuck there in The Boob
Anyways, I cheer on Spurs, despite a slight conundrum,
With, “There’s only one team in North West London”,
Coz as you know, I’m through n through a Blue like you”.

“So, what landed the pair of you in The Boob?”,
“Well, we’re “Over the water” having had a lube
Tube Station shut, can’t hail a sherbet dab
We stagger in a South Westerly destination
Seeking a night bus to Fulham Broadway Station
A little worse for wear, due to shandy’s had.

Anyways, near The Crystal Palace ground
You’ll never guess what us two found?
An eerie garage rammed with resting double-deckers”,
“Right, we’ll soon be good to go to Fulham Broadway
Hi-jack one of these, we’re right as day
Just see me out son, that done, I’ll pull up and get yer”.

“Kev, so I see him out to the main road
Where I quickly have it on my toes
And wait for him to pick me up, in the dead a night
But, the hi-jacked double-d flies by
Him waving at me (I thinks) bye-bye
Perturbed, I chase the bus to catch it at the lights.

Banging on the passenger door
Kev, you should have heard me roar?
Like a Banshee, proper vexed at my accomplice
“Let me on, you no good so n so”,
I’m screaming at this hi-jacker, I hardly know
His reply, “Can’t you read the sign son…Out of Service?”.

“Anyways, I prise open the emergency door
Just as the long arm of local law
Come blue lights flashing, roaring round a hairpin bend
Another ten minutes I swear to you Kev?
That Gooner might have been brown bread
Eejit, displaying, Out of Service, instead of…The Worlds End”.

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Epiphany in Park Lane.

En route to Kensal Rise, via Stamford Bridge,
At behest of the quare one, and Sean’s kids
His hearse purred to a halt at The Bovril Gate
We clambered out, sparked a pensive smoke
Reminiscing a, you had to have been there, sepia joke,
Blinding times, shared in The Shed with our old mate.

Declan produced a silver flask
Raised, as a roaring double decker passed,
His toast to absent friends, drowned in its wake
Couple over on a pilgrimage from Japan
Shared our china’s grief on Instagram
Quicker than a spieling tout moves on the make.

In the hired jam-jar, Van The Man
Touched our hearts as well he can
Gliding through a doleful, Carrickfergus
The quare one looked across at me
Pulling away from Sean’s beloved CFC
To softly sing in tearful poignant verse.

A stark and eerie Fulham Road
Glistening pavements we had strode
Queuing up all night for tickets in the rain
Seemed to know of Sean’s demise
Set of temporary traffic lights
Stayed steadfast on Go, and didn’t change.

Our jam-jar passed South Ken
Declan’s flask appeared again
A sombre mood prevailed outside The V&A
Stopping opposite Harrods in a jam
Celery and blue carnations close at hand
Passer’s by, bowed heads, or stared at us amazed.

Through howling wind, incessant rain
We aquaplaned Park Lane, Park Lane!
Which reminds me? Strewth! I’ve nothing else to say
Sorry…I can’t continue this tale of abject woe
After gleefully witnessing the antics of Mourinho
Alongside, his teams confusing lack-lustre display.

See…our china, Sean, might be brown bread
But as he often said, stood in The Shed,
“Ain’t nothing matters…long as we do well at Spurs away”.


Stay sage. Bode well.


Source: https://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/london-rivalry/