Far From Down. In London Town.

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Aim dog’s abuse at; the manager,
Spineless members of the team,
The slick suave svelte, Forza Italia
Destroyed a united nation’s dream.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Try n ignore those rabid Billy Bunters
Embarrass our beloved country on T.V
National anthems, jeered in front of us,
Those who choose to take the knee.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Come the harsh dawn of reality
Reflecting on the game
Take the plus’s, fluff the history
Look toward, with what was gained.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 That curse of losing semi-finals
At long last, laid to rest
For those detractors in denial
We lost, a game o’ chance agin the best.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 A young team, plus classy gaffer
With-out baggage on his back
Might eventually be the answer
To a winning mentality we lack?

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 On a sunny morning, penning a poem
In a shattered, hung-over London town
Football may well be at home in Rome
But…I ain’t letting that get me down.


Gareth (on a learning curve) Southgate. Whatever he manages (sic) to achieve, will never be able to please all of of us couch critics all of the time. A final, four weeks ago, where we lost a game of chance, to the tournaments best team? Was at best… a dream. So cheers Gareth for giving us that chance. Speaking of managers. Hats off to The Azzurri’s Roberto Mancini, and his cracking team for entertaining us all the way through to winning a final, and showing The World, how to sing a national anthem. I’m off to Bar Italia in Frith Street, for lunch, which is probably still buzzing after yesterdays game. Ciao.


Stay sage. Bode well.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/far-from-down-in-london-town/