1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 November
No shorts, no socks,
No straps, no jocks,
No shirts, no boots,
No whistle, no toots,
No scarf, or cravat,
No bobble, no hat,
No ticket, no rattle,
No midfield battle,
No Spot, The Ball,
No Saturday Call,
No money, no goals,
No transfers, no fouls,
No corners, no posts,
No wraiths, no ghosts,
No players, no gents,
No coats, no fence,
No sense, no ground,
No crowd, no sound,
No game, no worry,
No programme, no curry,
No songs, no tune,
No sun, no moon,
No pay, no view,
No view, November,
But remember,
In November,
Alan Foggon,
Whenever you log on,
For in this football age,
When global names are the rage,
We give you this warning
Of global warming –
Where have all the Foggons gone,


With apologies to Thomas Hood and his well known piece; with fond memories of overweight footballers like Mr. Foggon – NUFC, CCFC, MFC, MUFC, SFC, SUFC, HUFC were his clubs I think.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/november/