Are You Off Then Fred?

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Everybody knows their names
That band of bleeding blokes
Sat up in the stands at most home games
Thumbing through the programme,
Whilst clasping doctor’s notes.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 It’s so long since they started games
Club shop, don’t hold their shirts
There ain’t point in printing the names
On them, of those, always feigning hurt.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Put ’em’ on a pay per play
Yer injured? Then no cash
Where else in the world today
Would a guvnor, put up with this crap?

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Don’t let ’em’ sign an autograph
They might twist a feeble wrist
With another fortnight in Dubai
Working (sic) hard to come back fit.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Always looking tanned and healthy like
Well bored and stinking rich
I wish they’d take a hike or try an excercise bike
And get down to business, like they’re well paid to do
Out on the football pitch!

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 So a big shout goes out to “The Irons”
For paying this passenger to depart
There’s another three or four of ’em’ there
Working their tickets, who could go as well
Whom East End fans, would happily wish… au revior!



The Irons a.k.a West Ham United. Have, sadly, more of these blokes on their books than most clubs.

So I doff me hat to ’em’ down in Londons East End for saying enough’s enough and doing something about these bleeding (this is not meant to be in the context of swearing) parasites sat in their comfort zones.

P.s Bobby Moores magical number six claret and blue shirt is going to be retired for good, at the start of this coming season, as a mark of respect to the blonde adonis and sadly missed England skipper, and rightly so! One of our games real gent’s.



Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/are-you-off-then-fred/?shared=email&msg=fail