They hear the name Zico and they think of Brazil.
Not us, no, no, and we never will
A big daft Irishman
Mick martin is his name
He graced the park and made his mark
Now he's comentating

Sing in the Gallowgate
Bovril and a pie
Mirandhina round a corner flag
I’m so happy I could fly

Bliss does not last
Down to earth
We all crash down
The scousers get the goal

The whistle goes
Lets head for home
A soggy feeling I perceive
I think someone pissed down my back

Love the seamen one chris...

HAHAHA!!

They hear the name Zico and they think of Brazil.
We know better, don't we Dougal?
We knew Mel.

Life

From the keeper's arms
To the opponents' net.
Is the journey of the ball
A metaphor for the struggle
of sperm
In the womb?

Bet Seaman thinks so,
in his private moments
At home in Yorkshire.

The tribe
The quest
The adreniline rush

The shot
The goal
The big crowd crush

Zicoooo
Zicooooo
Zico
Zicooooo

You were never put in prison
For your beliefs
Like Steve Biko
But you were f*cking good looking
And that's just as important, perhaps.

Marco Tardelli!

I couldn't shake my head
And my hands
And the world
Like you did
Back when I was just a kid.
I could only shout
With a passionate cry.
But now if I try
I can hear John Motson blaring out your name
And it makes me crackle just the same
Just the same as that goal did.

Gabby Logan
with no clothes on
but just to make you sad
she'll end up looking like her dad

did I tell you that's my mates cousin you're talking about

on

Gabby Logan
With no clothes
Now that's what i call
The future of football

Des, Des, Des, Des, Des
Shut the f*ck up
And show us Gabby

Shearer
Afraid to fail
Always were.
Simple mate
You were never great
Cos you went home
So early
To be loved.

Ade Akinbiyi

Oh Ade, how do I despise you?
let me count the ways
1
2
3
...
...
...
2.4 million
yes, that just about covers it.

Shearer, She-ra
Davids got more medals than
You’ve lost your pace
Along with your hair
And the plastic mancs all hate you

The Gallowgate roar
Wear the captains armband proud
Number 9 on
Goal against the Makems

One arm raised
You wheel away
Smug grin says it all
Medal, shmedals, you’re the King of the World up here

haven't you lot got any work to do!!!(I'm only jealous)

Welsh Electric

Oh Sparky Hughes
You loved to move
Kinesis, action, combat, strife
For you they were the stuff of life.
It seemed to be beyond your ken,
The static drama of the pen.

You never deigned to get involved
With anything that didn't move.
Give you something thirty yards out,
Ball chest high and players' studs up.
It seemed not on, it seemed so wrong
The yards too much, the odds too long,
But your boot arrived in the appointed place -
Like a wrecking ball from outer space.

hehehehe chris

Glenn Helder - The Winger's Winger?

Did you really say
'If you want someone to defend
Buy a fucking defender!'
To George Graham?
If you did
You were wasted at the Library, me lad.

My 5-a-side Dream Team

Li Tie
Fan Zhiyi
Hidetoshi Nakata
Junichi Inamoto
Ono

Oh yes
I'd like to take all your sisters
To Fiji
Or up the bumcrack
Or both.

I contemplate the loom
'Pon which you weave
Opponents doom.

hahahahaha

My Dad's Sheffield and District Referees 5-a-Side Teammate Mal

You looked a bit like David Johnston
And you were the best player on the pitch
Every time they put the reducer in
You grinned
Cos you were a referee in civvies
And you'd send the cunts off next week

Danish Claus
Your smile makes me smile
Your soft accent makes me dream
Can you score a free kick?
Receding hairline
Misleading
You know you want me

haha dimanche league

My Thierry Amour

Tel, Tezza, Terry, Tegs
If you had been dimanche league
What would you have been called,
I begs?

But you're not,
Coz you too damn hot,
You I'd like to frot,
But you would not,
Because you're not,
The type to frot,
Or cott
age.
Oh no, not one jot.

You fast boy
With defenders you do toy
Bringing me much joy
On a Saturdoy
Or any other doy
That you ploy.

BOOM!
You lift the gloom
With your va va voom,
And as I zoom
Around the room
I contemplate the loom
'Pon which you weave
Opponents doom.

You best
Crazy vest.

(addendum)

Come home, Mendi. Come home.
We won without you
And it hurt to pretend we enjoyed it.

Dig it, daddio.

yeah he should have come to us az...

az, is that a poem or an email to 'you're on sky sports'?

ravenelli
so easy to spot
on telly

Mendi the Footballing Hippy

You called your daughter 'Haiza'.
It's Basque for 'Wind'.
It's not a common name, even in Bilbao.
You retreat to the mountains instead of the beach.
You refused National Service.
And you've condemned human rights abuses.
Why then, my choirboyish genius, did you go to Lazio?

where did I go wrong? Im open to criticisum

ah shadduppa ya face

'poem'

is that some sort of structuralist gag?

poem, not player

Sorry Satch. repeat in English please.

poem

though not much that makes sense ay satch

Higuita

There have been some fine contenders
For proximity to insanity
In that fine position
Between the sticks.

Schmeichel, who blamed his every mis-kick
On any red-clad misfit
In ranting range.

Chilavert, who would have run for president
And set a Chilean precedent
For cross-disciplinary success
But decided that politics was a mess
And bought a bar instead.

Barthez, who looked like an erect cock,
Muscular, shiny, full of cum
Linda dug his testo-moods
But he took the prick resemblance
Into inappropriate elements -
His game.

You, Higuita, you had the locks,
You had the shocks,
The trick you pulled at Wembley
Caused meetings to be called
In Wembley's hallowed halls.

You even had a silly name,
René.
No 1 No 1
For me.

Sooz that is the most awful player about a South African footballer I have ever read

and that's saying summat

nevp
as ron says
you do the ugly work

Fish on a dish

Wine, poems, football, women
You live for them all
Whats with the hair?
We like it
Give us a wave Mark.

You let the ball do the work
Por que non?

hehehhehe

Valderrama

You never seemed
To have been young
Always thirty
Never moved much
Outside the centre circle
You let the ball do the work
Por que non?

And sometimes i believed
Your golden mop
Had aerials on top
Connected to the angels
Who told you divine angles
To see those little passes
That only experience
And drugs
Can bring.

hehehe
like being back at skool
;o)

Deep in the unfamiliar sadness of the Catalan,
Far wander'd from the salty breath of the Tyne,
Shrunken from the Northern Moon, and the single blue star,
Sat gray-hair'd Sir Bobby, quiet as a stone,
Still was the silence that lay on the Nou Camp.
But the songs of the Geordies hung about his head.
Distant, urgent.
Like promise of rain.

King Keegan, departed, the kingdom in ruins,
Two strangers, unworthy, the bloodline lay broken.
No life in the people, their pride lying shattered.
Tearing life from the country, the men bowed and wasted.
To share life with this club a rare and painful gift.

But from far Barca the trail of foot-marks wander,
A trail unforgiving, far from the Spanish shore.
To where the people listened yet, waiting.
waiting.

Once more to the trenches, once more to the front line.
The people lying idle, their lifeblood denied.
The calling is heard, no time to stand idle.
Plans drawn up and readied, now onwards, time wasting.
The old knight now returning, the city alive.

Battiston
And on, and on
And back
And up
And down
On your arse
You should've ducked
Now you're fu.cked.

Jon Jensen
Extraordinaire
What the f.uck was up with your hair?
I see now
You've changed your name
To some obscure Danish beer.
That's so apt
Because you did
Play like a pool of piss

Erik the Viking

Big hands
Big in Norway
Shit in London

Pieman

If there were a handicap system
With a weight / agility ratio
You'd be the best keeper ever.
Will 'My Favourite Keeper Ever' do?

hehehehehehe

scary

HEY!

OI!!

oi!

The stumble, the kick, in the back of the net
The crowd went wild
In more ways than one
Ned Kelly the hero and villain in one
Evil little buggers are Leicester City fans

The stumble, the kick, in the back of the net
The crowd went wild
In more ways than one
Ned Kelly the hero and villain in one
Evil little buggers are Leicester City fans

They called you the crab, samways
was that cos you only passed
sideways
or because your hair looked like pubes?

Deano
Where’d your teeth go?
Are they in the goal?

Jason Cundy - the next big thing chelsea said
what the f.uck?
Married a bond girl then scored
from the half way line against ipswich
That was it for your luck
A cancer scare and you lost one ball
now it's in the other testicle

Thought so... Scrap the keeper... we need scholes in the team too.

hehe. you steven - we'd play 3-3-1-3 and seba would be a utd legend

Who would that mate be, chris?!!

'like a madman's shit'. *appl;auds*

Lee

Lee, Lee, Lee, Lee, Lee, Lee, Lee...
By crikey you could head the ball
You fell over it
Skied it
Skewed it
Screwed it wide
How we laughed and how we cried
More times than I care to recall
Until we hoofed it in the air...
That was where you lived, mate.
Right there.
Your forehead never missed a chance
Your entire body served it.
And the fucker could punch a hole in steel plate.
Bam! Defenders spread
Like a madman's shit
As the leather hit your head
And raced off home to make us dance.

"golden, dwight - that's what you were
in our golden year.
two more down the line
you'd taken a shine
to brandy and babylons,
big tits and avalons.
but you were golden, dwight,
for a time
and that is something"

Fantastic, chris. You are VERY good at this.

Martin O Neill

Don't get any funny ideas
Mon
'Bout running us club yeah.
i've got a mate who looks
Just like you
'Cept he's taller
And i'd rather he did it you f*cker.

normal wud probably give him a pedicure, actually

hehehe

i really f*cking hate mcmahon

HAHA!

i've been in his office. it was full of cases of Bud

McMahon

Those pig-faced dogs?
What are they called?
What is the proper creed
Of that rancid breed?
Is it McMahon?

If you'd ever understood
The depths of my hate
Towards your ruddy face
You would have killed somebody -
Perhaps me, hopefully yourself.

Everything about your style
Was drenched in bile
But unfortunately for me
It worked rather well
In the context of that earthly hell
Anfield.

I hope one day you bump into
Norman, Mr Whiteside,
Cos he hated you too
That's why i loved him.

And he could really give you a kicking
You little shit.

*applauds*

You took the best, you took the rest
From a north-east backwater
To the city lights
You gave us money we gave you class
But thankyou so much
For taking Kevin Scott

I believe Chris to be a total and utter genius.

Shame he's such a cnut with it and looks like Ian Beale

hehehe

haha whoj. Kevin fecking scott

i can bake cakes too

Chris... you have talent.

I might be crap at this, but I'm enjoying it......as Kevin Scott once said

Sunderland 0 Liverpool 5

I once made a trip to the darkside
Surrounded by the enemy
Ssssh, keep quiet, don’t say a word
I only went because it was a quid to get in
Ritual humiliation at the hands of the best
Laugh? I nearly cried, as the fifth burst the net

What's in a name? Ode to Tino

Faustino Asprilla.
Mephistopheles?
A Roman scooter?
You had some dark nights
of the soul
Tino
You zipped and buzzed in front
of goal
Columbia - cocaine - we made the link
Of silly things we shouldn't think
But something in the way you jigged
Was narcotic. We couldn't help it.

Barcelona took the brunt
Of stunts
Never pulled
Before up there,
Northside, Toonside.

Please stay alive
As long you can
Cos the world needs more like you
Tino.

Withe or without
My choice is clear
The beard and the smile
That old Bukta kit

Withe a Shoulder to cry on
And a Carr in the net
Zico the captain
Luton on a Wednesday night

Touché!
Away!

Super Sylvain Wiltord - a riposte

You're Sylvain
I bet you think this poem's about you
Don't you?
Well it is.

Your thirst, the sudden burst
Of the net
As you score - again
To the ball and space
You are first
All this makes you better
Than David Hirst.

mitch ward
truculent crab
midfield stalwart
in a land where stalwart is a word for fat and sluggish

well my first one was original

Beardsley, where’s your teeth
Did you leave them in the sink
With the apple and bleach?

You came to the St James
Not what you’d call debonair
But beauty we beheld
When you shuffled your feet

Rufus, tall and sleek
Strong but fair
No hair!
Quiet stare

ooooooooh; there'll be handbags!

That's shit, but I can't concentrate on other ones until I've done Sylvain.

satch - this is poetry, not cover versions.

Once-a-match Wiltord

Once a match
Comedy Sylvain
You're a lucky man

Once a match
You get it right
Apart from that you're shite

Once a match
Earns you fortunes
And the praise of silly Goons

Once a match
Everything clicks
Which is what makes you so comedic

Once a match
Is clearly enough
For you to do your stuff

Once a match
You play well
The rest of the time I think you're swell.

I'm too sexy for your car
Too sexy for your car, too sexy by far
And I'm too sexy for your party,
Too sexy for your party,
THE WAY I'M DISCO DANCING

oops soory forgot - I'm not a footballer

andrew motion cud do worse than to spend a day on here

*appluads*

San-som
Hand-some
With your tache so gay
Long-throw
Ho-mo?
So the fibres say?
But-me
Can't-see
It in any way
In-the
Eight-ies
Taches were okay

heheh cj; poll or stewart? ;-)

tht's just pinchign bits from a song satch, you thieveing doabetic

macho man damnit!

Roy, the two of us must look no more,
Roy, when you return you'll surely score!
Roy, you're such a mach man,
I am your biggest fan,
One day I hope you'll see,
You've got a friend in me...

Graham, your buns
Are like home-made pork pies
Firm but meatie
And so close to my eyes.

I wanna introduce mine on the terraces of old trafford. Might have to get noj to do it for me

fack off, i've just made it up

is that a club song, whoj?

Follow, follow
Follow the lads
Put your heart on the line
Your emotions in hell

From the highs to the lows
From Southend to Milan
McGarrys boys to King Kevs Gods
You’ve never won nowt
Don’t change

sang

I sanf that through as quick as I could, it's pretty funny satch

hahahahahahaha

Oh Becksy with your boots so white
Don't listen to Gooner, you're not shite
Dear Nisters with your horse's head
Come hither you sexpot, in my bed
And Scholsey with your shock of hair
Can't wait till you regain your flair
Oh Laurent you may lack the pace
But your accent makes my weak heart race
And Rio! Lo! you're lightning quick
Don't listen to that Risdale prick
And Fabien, mate your shiny dome
Gets on my tits - f.uck off home

I didn't know there were more!

Oh genius thread
May you often be read
May you never be deleted
For I doubt you'd be repeated

Welcome to Loftus Road
Our facilties are excellent
First class treatment room
Top notch doctor
Professionals like you deserve the best.
Rufus Brevett is indeed
sharpening his studs with his teeth.

A Tribute to Mickey Quinn

There he stands, a vision of
Rotundity spreading mirth and
Chaos in equal measure.
His girth a living, heaving
Answer to the oft posed question:
'Who ate all the pies?'
Like all great men, he took
The (offside) law into his own
Hands and lived life his way.
The jiggling of his collosal gut Mesmerised defenders across the land,
As he punished their slumber with goals.
His movement into the sport of kings
Brought trouble, as he spanked his
Horses as he did his goals and
Consequently got himself banned.
Oh Mickey, was there e'er a finer man in all of England?

He's fat, he's round, he's worth 10 million pound!
Mickey Quinn, Mickey Quinn!

hehe pins.

i think it may be a bit ROI, but give me 5 mins or so

Nah, just sumfink to take me mind off schtuff. You're a diamond. *hugs Lins*

*and Morgan*

HAHAHA! I take it back. That, ma'am, that is the best poem on here!

aww, really? Yeah, course I can. Any special requests?

az, that's genius.

Not really, Lins, but thanks for asking.

Don't suppose you've got the time / inclination to make me a little sanctuary, have you? I did write you a poem further down. :o)

oh ted
oh ted
oh ted, oh ted
I really would like
to give you head

you alright there, azul?

'Please give generously for the blind'

Wednesday did.
They gave about two million quid.
And in return, your cowardly pretty face
Was the symbol of defeat and derby disgrace
And you gave away the FA Cup
And from then on the game was up.
We didn't go to Europe, we didn't win the league
We spiralled into second rate, ennui and fatigue.

But had you held that easy catch
In that seminal Wembley match
I might have stayed in my dull life
I might have taken a boring wife
Sadly numbed by football glory
I might not be here to write this story

So I thank you, Mr Woods
You were never any fucking good
But I thank you, Mr Woods.

James Brolin would have been a better buy!

Brolin, the biggest flop in LUFC history

Swede Dreams

You cam from Parma
but forgot to leave the ham
Wilko thought you were the one
to get us out of a jam
But instead
you just took the money
And ran
(slowly)

tedward is really a very bloody good poem

I'm Spink, therefore I Yam

Nigel Spink
You made me think
Of Spunk
And Spastic
And the Sphinx

hehehehehehe shitting hell, the beginning and the end. Shouldn't talk on the phone whilst typing posts

The beginning and the start? Wow. Thanks! ;o)

I quite like the beginning and start of your Brady one, Az

Although the Kanchelskis one has the best ending.

hehehe re rix, goons

Chris's Golden Dwight is the best one on here.

I like the Rix and Le Saux ones. hehehehehe

RALPH MILNE

Gone? Here?
Still in the years past
We had fear

And then you came, you brought
Us

Nada

it is, isn;t it? I'm going to give it to him - seriously

chris, the tedward one is genius

Liam Brady

You were there, that day.
So was I.
I saw you play.
You didn't see me,
But you might have heard me cry
Your name when that lob left your boot
And floated over the the keeper, rooted.
It sailed and slowly, ever so slowly
Gently, ever so gently
Started to fall
This captive ball set free by you
For them, for us, for grace, for joy
For a besotted seven year old boy.
It took an age to hit the bar
Then time swept on once again
But the memory is never far
And I wonder who else can see the rain
On your face as you smiled, and played on.

You were there, that day.
So was I.

hehe goons, like the rix one…

hehe andy

D'Urso

Colossus in shorts
Black shorts
Concentrate!

Freund Upon (for Lins)

Supersonic
Teutonic
Funny nose but
Strangely Erotic

i'm trying to do one of these, but i'm not very good

Muddy Shorts

Le Saux
You play out wide
Why? It's nice inside

Perhaps
You do this thing
'cos you like brown wings

Stick It Up Your Bollocks

Roy Keane - say the words
See a trumped up park player
Snarling in your head.

My Terry Amour

Who he
With the
Pate so shiney

He looks
very
Division 3

Mancini

2 Syllable Love Affair

Zizou
He who
Buys you
Wins too.

Rix, you graced our wing
with your skills
so slick

Then, you graced a young mouth
with the fat from
your dick

And were lobbed in the nick.
You prick.

this one, smc!

i've taken brief solace in some virtual beauty. work beckons..

it most certainly is. a superb example of the wonders that are ladybums.

i know! arse!

bastards!

blimey, this is all Greek to me

f*cking clients! call at 4pm, debrief postponed till monday...start relaxing as i have an extra day...call at 6.30pm, oh it's back on, tomorrow morning, 10 o clock ok? gah! got about another hour to go. bastards.

Je l'ecouterai, je suis certain. Comme la premiere part de l'ouverture de 1812 par Tchaikovsky n'est pas?

bientot ce sera la symphonie fantastique, je le sens..

Oof! Le cul bloqué? Mes condolences.

tu me fais chier maintenant - malgre que j'ai mange une douzaine d'oeufs hier soir

"Espece"? "Espece"? Je vais "especer" toi dans un minute, mon juene fils!

espece de gai homosexual!

Je ris dans ta visage!

fagotte!

Bufté!

bisous, cheri

Mon ami, mon frere, mon Chris... je t'embrasse.

et c'est de ca qu'il tout s'agit!

hehehe

vous avez mis votre bonne jambe dedans, votre bonne jambe hors de....

j'entends votre chanson, monsieur azul

Platini

Michel
Do tell
Though we never got your name right on
Do you hear your song?

How were you
So graceful...
Flamboyant...
Aloof as some would say?

Back in '86 the
World went mad
For some young stocky lad
Named Ma-rad-ona

But Michel
Do tell
If you knew that some of us loved you
Indeed still do?

For me
You were
Mexico's real star
The Prince of Musketeers

The semi-final
Vee Brazil
Was the game that
Will mean your skill
And I love you still

Michel
Do tell
Though we never got your name right on
Do you hear your song?

Certainly not wasted, chris

cheers boxo!

sammy - the souness one was for you! ;-)

Pollock

Jamie, Jamie Pollock!
King of the wide front and rear

it was certainly not wasted chris - art at its most erm, arty. bloody great stuff.

f*cking hell i've just wasted an hour and a half...aargh.

Sounness

Dionysus would have had you
for master of ceremonies
so long as it didn't interfere
with your day job.

no perms for you.
you could have got a girl
pregnant
with that hair
you manly man

so glad to know
after all this time
that you prefer united
to them.

teehee

there's definitely some sort of erotic connection between me and musy too - the look of love

hehe, i like the fact that Beria and Tree are snogging

hehehehe

These are great!

Chris! How long have you been blind!

i love that photo of jason - looks like a total studmuffin who's about to take tankie and her mate home for some cocktails and a damn good rooting in his riverview apartment

no he doesn't!

give it another five years mind...

he does!

hehehehehe

hehe. sod off.

looks a bit like you

i would have liked to have been baudelaire - wine, hash, opium, three mistresses and boat trips to the far east. he looks a bit like my dad actually.

you could have been indeed

shame it's not the 19th century, i could have been a poet

mais oui!

are you making all this up yourself, chris?

Amor

juan veron
sebastian veron
juan sebastian veron
brilliance as fragile as the shell of an egg
but you scramble my brains
seba
like nothing since georgina compton
blew me away
with my back to the window.
fresh!

hehe, pretty fly for a magpie, nice title.

I've had songs published on amiright concerning Solano ("Pretty Fly For A Magpie" and Morientes and Raul.

Straight from the Steppes - a Ukrainian Love Affair

no sense of occasion.
that was your tragic flaw
and your strength.
through on goal,
you simply upped a gear
went wide
and blasted back.
crosses were for volleying,
you never used your head

in any sense, really,

but you made sparky
look indecisive.

the gambling debts
the mafia stories
five pound haircuts at fred's in sale.
so distant so strange
and yet one of us.

rosy flushed cheeks -
rude health, never fatigue
giggs gazed upon your velocity
and considered alternative careers.

oh andrei!
milenkii moi
krasny geroi
hope you're well son,
cos you were f*cking great.

Powered the ball down with his what?!
I think he's already concerened about my sanity...

hehe. tell him, when we were one nil down at home to juve, he won the ball in midfield, set someone up - and popped up 30 seconds later, leaping over ciro ferrara and some other gimp, powering the ball down with his, it gathered speed off the bounce - goalie no chance. Tedward!

(though i might be getting my games mixed up)

That Tedward one is genius. I might print it out and go and give it to him!

Tedward

you seemed so stupid
in some ways,
teddy -
permatan, essex flash
you probably wore kouros.

it took me a year to understand
that you would still smell good.

you could pass with your head, teddy.
how did you do that?
every fan of every club
you played for
loved you - from a distance.

of course you had a yard in your head,
or in your pocket,
or somewhere secreted where noone else could see.
we all know that, saint and greavsie told us
a thousand times.

but you had bottle, tedward, too -
you stuck it up juve
like they were a bunch of girls.
you'd walk through a wall
and still smell good
you f*cking horny bastard
Tedward.

He Played For Us, Lins, He Played For Us

A smile in South Yorkshire
Is worth a thousand kingdoms
When you played
Little children laughed in their seats

you're a genius, christopher

i'm almost crying here

Yorkie's Knob

you swaggered into europe
18
chest like a shield
carnival feet
comedy teeth
birmingham gasped.

up the M6
we weren't too excited
at your imminent arrival.
only Alex knew
that you were love in motion.

golden, dwight - that's what you were
in our golden year.
two more down the line
you'd taken a shine
to brandy and babylons,
big tits and avalons.
but you were golden, dwight,
for a time
and that is something
in this life.

i kind of respect you.

"Frankly, my dear"

A pint
of
Worth-ing-ton
man
is worth
2
Errol Flynns

Ode To Timothy

I wish Sherwood
Wouldn't

"Daisy The Cudworth Bull"

'Oh David Hirst
They did their worst
To hurt you
Especially that bastard Steve Bould
But though you were cursed
To retire first
Though not as old
You are still
Better than Shearer'

"Jari"

'You came from afar
To play at Anfield
But you got forgotten
Even in the Charity Shield
And now you've flown.
Who's Jari now?'

hehehehe

fantastic

"Sharpe"

'You who once rode alongside The King
Tried to make Yorkshire, more your thing.
But we saw you coming and sent you packing
You joined the pundits for a bit of press-packing
And so you fell,
From a Chariot of Red Fire
To a Grecian quagmire
And, finally, the dole.'

I'll have some of what Chris is drinking please.

Lee Sharpe

life in the fast lane
directly to exeter
in five years
you fool

"Zinedine"

zizou, purring gently,
balding invisibly,
fat assed, yet not
the sum of imperfections
is perfection
and 45 million squid.

Our Kev - too little for Donny
You went to Scunny
Now you're just a front-bottom.

hehehe goons

"Carlton Palmer"

'You loved a drama,
Carlton Palmer.
You tried to harm her,
Carlton Palmer.
Now you're calmer,
Carlton Palmer.
Why not sign for Parma?
Carlton, Carlton Palmer'

hehe nice.

'A Man for All Seasons' a beat poem by Andrew 'The Other' Dickens

Waddle
Why?
Did you do it.
Schizo
Hair-do
Summer at the front
Winter
at
the back
Where you at?

Gordon Strachan

you were once mistaken
for a chimney sweep
by grahame souness
but i bet you enjoyed that cigar

I'm taking notes from my mentor ;-)

ahahahahahahahahaha

it's a poem thread smudge, not a discussion thread. get writing.

"Chris Whyte"

'Oi! Whytey! On me Head son!
No! Not your hair!
What? It's not bird shit?'

and Lancashire's that good, you live so far away

hehehehehehe soup. do one for Chris Whyte or Mel sterland

Rio Grande

stepping across
that petty range
you looked back
only to know
that gratitude is benevolent revenge
and yerkshire's crap.

"John Newsome"

'You came to Leeds to help us win
We booed you out cos you were too thin
and shit
and Norwich is too good for you
I hate vous'

The King is Dead

oh eric
oh eric
we'd never seen your like
in manchester before
but you quit early
and got fat
and now you're a bit of a bullshitter
but i still love you
cantona - so much to answer for.

nice

"Born Out of Time" by Chris Francis

oooooh steffan
steffan steffan steffan effenberg
sixty years ago
you would have been in the SS
wouldn't you?