Football Poets

Andy Burnham

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 2 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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