Football Poets

And the bronze medal goes to….

And finally Ladies and Gentlemen
The bronze medal goes
As the audience hold their breath
You’ll never believe it
Here’s what you could have won
England and it’s not the caravan
Designed for your council estate
Nor indeed for that luxurious pile
In Norfolk or your bijou
Million pound apartment in Belgravia
It’s the booby prize
Third or fourth place at the World Cup 2026
The Prince of Wales declared
He was proud of England
The sweat, dedication,
Whole hearted effort
And so we were as well
The 70 million bated breaths
Leaping off our Chesterfields
Seats of honour
Effervescent elation
Pouring from estuaries
Of beer, Somerset cider
Trickling down timeless
Wallpaper from 1966
And old fashioned pale ale
Traditional and loyal
As the uncle, cousin and aunt
Wife, husband
Girlfriend and boyfriend
Who gritted their teeth
Against Ghana, DR Congo, and Norway
Hurling our savoury snacks
Into golden, summery, glowing
Heated blue skies
And intoxicating cans of
Holsten Pils
Against conservatory ceilings
And the local Red Lion
When Gordon flashed home
That precious first goal
But then slumped and sunk
Into the Slough of Despond
When Argentina got one over us
Again, oh it had to be them
But never mind
FIFA have given you another chance
It’s the consolation prize
Not great admittedly
But it’s better than nothing at all
Third place and local
Cross channel bragging rights
France, is that OK?
Can we discuss this
With our families?
Oh come on just to prove
That we can get one over
M’Bappe, he won’t mind
Gallic glad tidings
For dear old Blighty
How we love her
Just Fontaine, Raymond Kopa,
Platini, Six, Giresse
Eiffel Tower
Gard du Nord
President Macron
We’ll give your boys
One hell of a beating
It has a certain
Je ne sais quoi about it
Tomorrow England- France
A footballing romance
In the Jardin of Angleterre
Kentish towns
A riot of red, blue and white
St George flags
All over those green
English pastures
Come on Harry, Jude, Elliot,
Declan, Jordan, Marc, John,
Djed and Thomas Tuchel
A tactical calamity
In the semis
But we can redeem ourselves
In the warm embrace
Of our friends and family
Back home
It’s not the end of the world
It could have been worse
We’ll still have our stories
Of the American dream
A victory over France
To cherish over afternoon tea
In posh London hotels
Bronze medal,
It’ll do very nicely
Now there’s something to
Remember for just a while
From your World Cup exertions
Please let’s not be blue

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