Here bygynneth the Prologue of the Cardiffe Citie Tales

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 When that Aprill with his lager bitter
The footballe fanne hath pierced to the roote,
And bathed every crowde in swich sweet licour
Of which anger engendered is the floure,
When Zephirus reek with his beery breathe,
And inspired hath every ground and heathe,
The robust Hartson and the yonge sonne,
Threaten relegation for the Ramme,
And small refs maken melodye,
That slepen all matches with closen eye,
Thanne longen folke to go on pilgrimage,
But now is closen Wembley Stadiame,
And so from Engerlonde they wende,
To Cardiffe, where the FA Cup doth ende.
To be contd.


There is many a tale to follow and I am hopeful that fellow pilgrims will contribute to this medieval fannes’ diary over the coming year.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/here-bygynneth-the-prologue-of-the-cardiffe-citie-tales/