For Joe Higgins – the last of the socialists

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 He’s a good old-fashioned left winger,
A breed that is near obsolete.
Hunched, like an old-time gunslinger,
He awaits the short ball played to feet.
His path is well-trod, straight and narrow,
For he’ll never stray far from the line.
A quick feint and he’s off like an arrow,
With a purpose not hard to define.
He’s a pest, he’s a wasp, a tormentor,
Working hard for such scanty rewards,
Yet he never strays far from the centre
Now preferred by the chattering hordes.
He’s always supported the strikers,
Though the goal seems a long way away,
And he’ll dance to unheard balalaikas,
Whenever the ball is in play.
The defender retreats with timidity,
Exposed by complete lack of pace,
Then lunges with fright’ning stupidity
And is left with much egg on his face.
Long ago when the fans were much nearer,
He could feel their hot breath on his neck,
But now in the corporate era,
He appears just a minuscule speck.
He’s an oddball, declare the reporters,
Waiting there for the ball played out wide,
But he’s so far out left, say supporters,
That he’ll always have right on his side.



The Socialist Party’s sole TD (MP) lost his seat by a narrow margin in the recent general election here. With most parties more or less vying for the middle ground, Joe had been described as the true opposition.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/for-joe-higgins-the-last-of-the-socialists/