Football Poets

Shock, horror West Ham win.

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Yes it’s true
Shock, horror,
West Ham have finally won
Or is this just
A complete myth
A genuine fallacy
Finally somebody has flicked
A switch, pressed some
Random button
There is life in the
Old claret and blue dog
Like a Phoenix from the ashes
That’s a hat-trick of
Thames Ironworks victories
In the lower tier
Not the Chamber of Horrors
But the Championship
We thought they were just
A rotten, decaying corpse
But then came that moment
The sudden jolting movement
That heart is pumping away
Like a trip Hammer.
Who’d have thought it possible?
Firstly the prowling, howling
Wolves from the Molineux
At the Olympic Park
Devoured with hungry relish
Four of the best
And overnight the song changes
To we are top of the League
I said we are top of the League
Like some religious, mystical chant
Then the Rams are eventually
Battered, nay less clobbered
Derby County with three more
Into the Irons savings account
West Ham fans spoilt, startled
We can hardly believe this
Open mouthed astonishment
From whence did this come?
Origins and provenance unknown
West Ham firing on all cylinders
Was it something in the
London Stadium half time tea?
Finally West Ham are out of
The starting blocks
Up and running with goals
Raining down in Biblical torrents
Engels the Belgian philosopher
Is rediscovering those
Original thought patterns
Solomon, the Israeli flier
Will be contemplating and
Reflecting this most sacred weekend
The Jewish New Year
Rosh Hashanah
But of course,
He looks nippy and nimble
Low centre of gravity
But dainty and devious
But all in the best of tastes
Taty, the Argentinian
Must have an artillery in his
Armoury, goals galore
We can but hope
Austbo the new Viking
Norwegian to his finger nails
Has led with his first dance
Down the Hammers wings
Luring and beckoning defenders
Into a false sense of security
And then a couple of nights ago
The Trotters of Bolton
Came a cropper
Again at the Toughsheet Stadium
Yes, that’s what we thought
It barely seems credible
Oh for the glory days of
Burnden Park
When Nat Lofthouse roared
Like the Lion of Vienna
Goal scorer par excellence
And then more recently
Peter Reid, Alan Gowling,
Sam Allardyce
But Bolton are just
Out of kilter and shape
At the moment
A distorted caricature
Of their former selves
Dare you say it
But that was sweet revenge
For the 1923 FA Cup Final
When Billy the Horse
Stampeded across the old Wembley
In the first day edition
Of the Cup Final
Take that Bolton
Put that in your pipe
And smoke it
Besides there were thousands
The marauding hordes
On the pitch that day
And nobody can prove that
Bolton did indeed beat
West Ham on that far off day
From yesteryear
When the the Flappers
And the Charleston
Met the birth of the Talkies
But seriously West Ham
You’re second in the Championship
Cherish it, salivate and savour it
10 goals in three games
Oh, giddy, dizzy heights
It can’t be happening
But it is
Enjoy and be grateful

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