Football Poets

New Year Scotland ~ Pools Reminders

Ah! Bonny Scotland
You’ll take the High Road
And I’ll take the low
Family Hogmany
Parties
In debonair Dumfries
Happy New Year
To Scottish football
But above all to those
At the sadly lower
End of the football
Pools coupon
Halcyon days
When James Alexander
Gordon uttered the lyrical
Prose of East Fife five
Forfar four, or
Cowdenbeath and Morton
Crossed swords with Stranraer
Or Falkirk, even Queens Park
In the palace of grand
Halls,
Stately surrounds
Images of old and new
Dripping with the
Gilt decor of Hampden
The international playground
Where folks wearing thistle
And kilts respected their folklore
While men with
Tartan kilts bellowed
Seamless renditions of
ditties from the days of
Yesteryear
But now no longer but
Bannockburn and Culloden
With their ageless
Full throated roars of the land
Of Scotland the Brave
Of haggis and whisky
Rejoicing on the lochs
and glens of heather
Clad. Loch Lomond
Where Rabbie Burns
Poured out his poetic
reflections and reminiscences
From way back yonder
And then Clyde met
Dumbarton on New Year’s
Day how convenient
And then the sainted
Jock Stein once guided
His Celtic to garlanded
Highs of League championships
And Rangers with John Greig
Valiantly challenged the status quo
With Jock Wallace and a young
Sir Alex Ferguson
If only we’d known then
What we now know
Fergie’s stunning United.
But then
The Old Firm Derby
The fires of antagonism
Celtic and Rangers once
With a seeming duopoly
On the Scottish League
But way back in 1967
Celtic with wee Jimmy
Johnstone, feet of sweet
Dexterity, jinking and dinking
Bobby Murdoch and Tommy
Gemmell, entranced us spellbound
With dainty decorations
Before the coronation
Of the European Cup
In the grateful trophy cabinet
And Parkhead
Knew life would never be
The same because they
Were British pioneers
But down Dumfries
Where my lovely wife
And I toasted the New
Year.
It was simple and heartfelt
Queen of the South and
Dumfries are idyllic and
Compatible souls
At the end of the Pools
Coupon
But we’ll think of them
When the final skirl of
Bagpipes lifts our hearts
To a swollen full
We’ll drink to them all.

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