Poems we never saw

[Oggy]

Just found these, for when we came back to the league, with the proviso that he should have posted them on here first, they're probably worth a read, if you like that sort of thing, bit southern for me, but it takes all sorts.
Sssshhh poems .......



Accrington Stanley
A memory from grandad’s time.
Those long, faraway days
When players
Weren’t paid in telephone numbers.

The new season
Will welcome back a ghost
Into the fold.

Accy’s back!



Accy's Back
No-one said it would be easy
The word all used, was fun,
And now we're back
But wins we lack,
We would have liked just one.

But still, it's early doors yet,
As all Managers say,
We'll play and fight
with all our might
In the Football League to stay.

So keep a watch on all our scores,
We'll try to give good reason,
Give us a cheer
When our name you hear,
Follow us through the season.


both by a guy called Alan McKean

I'm touched.

[Oggy]

Bloody hell, Ive found another, I'm not staging this, honest.
Ssshhh poem ....


Accrington Stanley
It is said that football supporters
Grow to resemble their clubs
But what if your club has seen
Better days distant glories
Is there still a chance to dream
To put on the slap
Dust down the stadium
Repair the cracks
Or like the best laid plans
Simply grow old gracefully
Slip youth and hope the mirror lies...
Yet if football be the food of love
Play on.



This one by P.Maguire
(For Les, Crown Green Bowler and stoical Accie supporter.)

Anybody know the back story?

[Oggy]

And another, this guy's quite a technical Poet, but there's a famous Stanley victory towards the end.
Ssshhh poem ...


Industrial Archaeology: My Birthday
The Thames and Severn Canal
Was just like every other canal I’ve ever been on,
As I cycled along by lock, bridge and wharf,
With meadow and green Cotswold Hill,
Sluice gate and sun bleached red brick mill,
Church, cottage and manor house wall,
All following one another in symmetry and order,
And just like when you watch a football match,
You are watching every football match you have ever seen,
So that’s what it was like today on this canal,
All past and present mirrored there in the water below,
It was like every canal I had ever been on,
A cloth cap memory kind of birthday,
When Accrington Stanley beat Nottingham Forest,
Just like they should on days such as these,
A birthday of industrial archaeology.


Can't believe this, written by Stuart Butler, who I know resonably well, supports Slough. Only just found it, Google on.

[Oggy]

OK, if you're still with this thread, you like poems, or just want to stave off what you should be doing.
This one's by a woman, who seems to know what football is all about.
Sssshhh poem ........ cert 18.




Your shirt
When the pitch is wet and muddy
And the playing’s rough and bloody,
Then the footballers come home with lots of laundry to be done,
And we women aren’t so keen –
We’ve got to get the kit all clean
And suddenly our fandom doesn’t seem a lot of fun.

But when it’s late in May
Or a warm September day
And the sweat is flowing freely, there’s a special kind of dirt,
And the teams all smell so manly –
Real Madrid to Accrington Stanley! –
And I find a new ambition: I want to be your shirt.

I’ll stretch myself across your back;
Get tipsy on your big six-pack;
Soak up your perspiration
For poetic inspiration;
It’ll end all my frustration
With a strong anticipation
That I’ll feel your muscles ripple
As I brush against your nipples –
The contraction of your pecs
Will be a substitute for sex!

And when at last you score (a goal),
My sleeves will grip your arms down hard
So you can’t wildly rip me off
And get another yellow card.

And when the match is over,
Friendly handshakes all around,
You’ll stop to swap me with another,
Before you leave the ground,
And I’ll adorn a different torso,
And I’ll fit him like a glove,
And I’ll hug him all the more so
‘Cause he’s someone new to love;

But your name’s written on my back
And though sometimes I flirt,
Babe – I’ve got your number,
And I want to be your shirt.



Brenda Read

[Oggy]

OK, there's more, another one by P.Maguire, I've highighted a line for my mate Bagpuss, but it's the twelve apostles bit that'll clinch it for Accy fans, we know it's true.
Sssshhh poem .....



Thinking about Football at the National Football Museum
They have pictures of miracles
At the football museum
Photographs that hold
Within the flimsy paper
Faith, Hope, Love
Wrapped up in football boots
That we all longed to pull on
Wrapped up in football shirts
We claimed as ours
If only in dreams
But what are we without dreams
Those fickle sleep urchins
But at the football museum
I have stood close to such dreams
I have whispered to these icons
I have lowered my head close to the
Shadow of Bobby Moore
Still marvelling at the impossible angles
Of Gordon Banks
The beauty of Pele
That not even Monet could match
I witnessed the soul of Jock Stein outshine
The beguiling silver of the European Cup
Shankly immortal immeasurable Shankly
How his spirit rested upon the steps of Deepdale
As he dreamed his dreams for a Liverpool
Not yet born still to be created by him
But patient in waiting
At the national football museum
I counted the medals of titles
And Stanley Matthews his dignity counted
For greater glory like Arthur Wharton
Remembered now
The 12 Apostles of football
Spread the word and The Good News
Arrived on the 8th September 1888
Accrington Aston Villa Blackburn Rovers
Bolton Wanderers Burnley Derby County
Everton Notts County Preston North End Stoke
West Bromwich Albion and Wolverhampton Wanderers
How well these football Gospels sowed the seeds
The salt of the earth Football
The opiate of the working class?
Are we duped?
Well we're not fooled by politicians
Or the new rock & roll
But football, that will always be ours
It's the authentic accent
The clarity of the soul
For "I think Football, therefore I am."


If only Descartes had gone the extra 12 yards.

[Oggy]

Originally Posted by Oggy

They have pictures of miracles
At the football museum

Really like these lines.

Please donate your story to the Accrington Stanley history project.

Poems pleasantly accepted.

[Oggy]

OK, as you've maybe guessed, I'm having an affair with the internet and a wee dram or two.
Here's a short poem, bang the drum.


Uncle Stan
Our Uncle Stan
Was an Accrington man.
‘E was big, ‘e was ‘airy,
‘E was not a big fairy,
‘E’d a tackle as ‘ard
As me mam’s back yard.
‘E was virile an’ manly,
Was Accrington Stanley.


Peter Goulding
Inspired by their recent nostalgic performance on MotD (2003)

Goucky Homage?

[melonhigh]

Excelllent stuff, Oggy. Keep 'em coming!