Now the pain has died down a bit, my thoughts on the game in the form of a poem!
Tis took the boys to Wembley
For play off final number three
Homer and Troy had their fun
With a kick around in the sun
On the hallowed turf before the start
No chance for them to play their part
For them and others it wasn’t to be
Through dodgy knees and injury
Pym was nervous between the sticks
Three kicks straight out into row six
Could Bobby do better, we’ll never know
The cravat wearing one he doth say no
One nil down by minute three
The fans were muttering; well ****** me!
Maybe it’s not going to be
Our day today at Wembley
Our midfield men play tippy toe
To me. to you, no here you go,
I don’t want it so have it back,
Thank you very much, you’re a proper chap
Woodman and Brown, huff and puff
James and Harley, powder puff
To me to you, then back again,
I’ve given it away, oh what a pain
No sense of urgency, there’s plenty of time,
Tis’s heart rate is lower than mine
An inch away, we’re playing well,
It’s a privilege to be here can’t you tell
Wheeler prolific in the air
He nods them down but no one’s there
To knock one in or bob and weave
Too busy flattering to deceive
Then David Wheeler gives us hope
With his deft little toe poke
Over the keeper and into the net
Perhaps it’s not all over yet
Honours even as the whistle blows
Down the tunnel the players go
Time for the half time pint of cider
What a bargain, just under a fiver
Blackpool Lively but where are City,
Things aren’t looking very pretty,
It’s started to rain, where’s the sun,
Oh boll@#ks it’s now two one
Time for some changes from the Cheese,
Forward, forward, the fans shout, please,
On come Holmes and Reuben Reid
Looking for a decent feed
Holmes waits patiently on the wing
But doesn’t receive a bloody thing
As Paul and Barry, his Chuckle Brother
Continue to pass to one another
Reuben slips up on the grass
Desperate to receive a decent pass
But once again it isn’t to be,
To me, to you, to you, to me
Its extra time lets go for it,
Let’s not play the same old *****
Of side to side and tippy to
Let’s give it a right good effing go!
Too late the final whistles blowed!
No heroes, no legends, no guts no glory
Only for us the same old story
As were left to reflect on what might have been
See you next season at Forest Green!
Tis took the boys to Wembley
For play off final number three
Homer and Troy had their fun
With a kick around in the sun
On the hallowed turf before the start
No chance for them to play their part
For them and others it wasn’t to be
Through dodgy knees and injury
Pym was nervous between the sticks
Three kicks straight out into row six
Could Bobby do better, we’ll never know
The cravat wearing one he doth say no
One nil down by minute three
The fans were muttering; well ****** me!
Maybe it’s not going to be
Our day today at Wembley
Our midfield men play tippy toe
To me. to you, no here you go,
I don’t want it so have it back,
Thank you very much, you’re a proper chap
Woodman and Brown, huff and puff
James and Harley, powder puff
To me to you, then back again,
I’ve given it away, oh what a pain
No sense of urgency, there’s plenty of time,
Tis’s heart rate is lower than mine
An inch away, we’re playing well,
It’s a privilege to be here can’t you tell
Wheeler prolific in the air
He nods them down but no one’s there
To knock one in or bob and weave
Too busy flattering to deceive
Then David Wheeler gives us hope
With his deft little toe poke
Over the keeper and into the net
Perhaps it’s not all over yet
Honours even as the whistle blows
Down the tunnel the players go
Time for the half time pint of cider
What a bargain, just under a fiver
Blackpool Lively but where are City,
Things aren’t looking very pretty,
It’s started to rain, where’s the sun,
Oh boll@#ks it’s now two one
Time for some changes from the Cheese,
Forward, forward, the fans shout, please,
On come Holmes and Reuben Reid
Looking for a decent feed
Holmes waits patiently on the wing
But doesn’t receive a bloody thing
As Paul and Barry, his Chuckle Brother
Continue to pass to one another
Reuben slips up on the grass
Desperate to receive a decent pass
But once again it isn’t to be,
To me, to you, to you, to me
Its extra time lets go for it,
Let’s not play the same old *****
Of side to side and tippy to
Let’s give it a right good effing go!
Too late the final whistles blowed!
No heroes, no legends, no guts no glory
Only for us the same old story
As were left to reflect on what might have been
See you next season at Forest Green!
No worries. We do indeed publish poems and articles from city fans on anything ecfc related. Love this one. If sid or anyone else wants to write for the fanzine, just get in touch on here or via our website.