Friday Night Lights
14 to nothing,
Before the half
All the games, but one, have passed
Seasons ending early, due to injury
Compares nothing to the loss of a brotherhood; a family.
Friday night lights
So many dog-fights
In the end, we all sacrificed
To me football is a thing of the past
Just one more thing I wish would last
Stepping out on the field one last time,
Brings a tear to my eye
A half-hour past nine
Time to pack up, and head back home
Never again will I touch that end zone
The big hits are gone
No more players of the week
No more happy valleys
Or Thursdays to eat; before the game
No more fame
I’m proud to have played football for this team,
For that I’m not ashamed.
poem by Donnie Brush
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Tis Football
'Tis football is the big World game of today
Grid Iron the big game of the U S of A,
Rugby League, Rugby Union and Aussie Rules Football
And soccer the biggest World game of them all
Gaelic Football a field game the Irish do play
Football in it's many codes the big World game of today
Football supporters Worldwide their team and their club colours wear
And in International games in their National colours they even dye their hair
Some men love their football team as much as their parents, children or wives
Yes football is one of the great loves of their lives
When their team does win the club song they do sing
But a loss to their weekend great sadness does bring
All over the World many codes of football
And to each their own code the best game of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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You May Know A Lot About Your Favourite Game
You may know a lot about your favourite game
And from your commentaries and writings on it you know of wealth and fame
But there's more to life than talking of and writing of football
And about other things you seem to know little at all
By the followers of football your type are well known
And they look up to you as one in a class of your own
They well may be happy your praises to sing
For football to them is an important thing
But by other than me it has been said before
That football is just a game that and little more
For many from life's cares a brief getaway
To cheer on their team in the game of the day
And you football writer and commentator and sporting celebrity
You may seem enlightened to many but not so to me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Old Jimmy
With the aid of walking stick he shuffles down the side street and time has left him looking stiff and gray
And truly it can be said of old Jimmy that he is one who has known a better day
Ageless father time takes care of everybody there was a time when he could run quite fast
But now he only can walk at a slow pace and all of his better days are in the past.
He was a football hero in his heyday the best on ground in nineteen forty one
The day that his club played in the Grand Final without him the Premiership could not be won
Close to his prime and in his early twenties on looking back that seems so long ago
It's true that time leaves it's mark on everybody the man who once ran fast now walking slow.
The hard games of football he played in now on him telling he has arthritis in his painful right knee
An injury that forced him into retirement when he was past his prime at thirty three
Back in the forties and fifties he was a football hero but football heroes like the seasons come and go
And that he once was a Grand Final hero is something few young people wish to know.
Old Jimmy slowly shuffles down the side walk a mere shell of the man he used to be
In forty one he starred in the Grand Final when he was near his prime at twenty three
And father time has left his mark on Jimmy and time 'tis said for anyone doesn't wait
And the grim reaper will take the king and pauper and the grim reaper will take the football great.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Football
I'm a football baby,
Rollin' round the field.
I've been passed and fumbled,
Till I don't know what I feel.
Everybody's the same,
They're all footballs too.
Setting up the big play
And trying to score.
I'm a football baby
In a football game
I'm a football baby
Run--kick
Life's a football game,
As every chump and champ knows.
We don't touch, we collide,
Till we're worn out inside.
We're kicking each other,
Right where it hurts,
Setting up the big play,
And trying to score.
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
Block--pass
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
Run---kick---hit---goal .
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is The Football Season
This is the football Season it is that time of year
When men in the pub talk football as they enjoy their beer
And look forward to September when one club will fly the winner's flag
The team that wins the Premiership gives their fans the right to brag.
Their wives nicknamed the footy widows their husbands at the football club
Or after work talking football with their mates down at the local pub
They take football so seriously 'tis their passion in life
The footy fan loves his football club as much as his children or his wife.
And if their team lose at the weekend they feel and look so sad
What's known as football addiction they seem to have it bad
They feel sad for their football team and the chance of four premiership points gone
But they cheer up and look forward to next weekend's game as the working week wears on.
This is the football Season football has gone to their head
And their football scarves and beanies they even wear to bed
About their team they feel so passionate as if to them it did belong
And 'tis with delight and pride in victory that they sing the club song.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Football - The most beautiful game
After stepping into the field
there is no way out
even before you start the game
you hear the fans shout
The players then sings their anthem
its football......
the most beautiful game.....
And when the whistle blows
the crowd starts their roar
in the 90 tensed minutes
the players got to score
Football is friendly only in name
because friendliness is not meant for football....
the most beautiful game....
So when the hard tackles go in
and injured fellow goes out
the crowd becomes furious
and starts to shout
Even after breaking one's leg
there seems to be no shame
because its football....
the most beautiful game....
He Is Such A Joyful Winner
He is such a joyful winner but he does not like to lose
His favourite team won at the weekend so he went on the booze
He could not go to work today he feels fuzzy in the head
And nursing his hangover he lay at home in bed.
A football mad young person he surely loves the game
To be the Club's best barracker is his great claim to fame
At every goal his team kicks he whoops aloud in joy
The man in his late twenties at heart remains a boy.
His beanie in his Club Football colours to bed he even wear
His Club as important to him as his wife and children his type no longer rare
In the pub with his drinking mates their main topic is football
The great players and the winners and the losers of the weekend games they recall.
His team won at the weekend but he is in bed today
For too much celebrating his price he has to pay
He proudly wears the Club colours of his favourite football team
And every victory that they have good for his self esteem.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Their Football Team To Them Important
Their flags and their banners they are waving with joy and excitement they shout
The hero has kicked the winning goal but what are they shouting about
To them it should not really matter 'tis only a game of football
But to them it is very important and their's is the best team of all.
At least that is how they do see it their lives revolves around their team
When their team win a huge boost to their egos and a loss bad for their self esteem
Last week their team lost in a thriller but their loss reduced them to tears
And tonight they will sing their Club song in the Local and celebrate with a few beers.
They look forward to the football Season and they live for the love of the game
And on their bedroom walls a poster sized photograph of their heroes and they know every player by name
Why do they take football so serious they talk about it at work every day
But suppose each of us have our own passions and each to their own one might say.
Their flags and their banners they are waving as proudly they sing their Club song
And they look forward to next weekend's game each day till then for them too long
Their football team to them important their lives revolve around the game
And each time their heroes are defeated the umpires for the loss they will blame.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A poem for Football lovers
Football can make you cry
it can also bring you joy
I've played and watched it
as a man and a small boy.
Football has great players
like the one and only Messi
the Argentinian is a genius
I wished he played for Coventry.
Football is the favourite sport
no other game comes anywhere near
in the U.K.it's the number one pastime
just beating fishing and drinking beer.
Football though can be an addiction
it can be on your mind all of the day
your thinking about goals, shots, and saves,
and even talking about it to God when you pray.
So long may Football be played on our planet
even though it has trouble along the way
but just think if there was no Football at all
us fans would have nothing to do on a Saturday!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Tim Kennelly
A mighty Gaelic Footballer he inspired the bards to rhyme
He played centre half back for Kerry when he was in his prime
A stalwart of the Listowel Emmetts a famous Gaelic Football Club
And in the Town of listowel he owned a well known pub.
His name was Tim Kennelly one of the Kingdom's best
And he was not found wanting when he was put to the test
But he did not live to be an old man to grow stooped and old and gray
In his very early fifties the great man passed away.
With the greats of Gaelic Football he is surely one to rate
The Listowel Emmetts Clubman was a Kerry G A A great
For Listowel Emmetts and for Kerry he played many a marvellous game
And his name destined to live on in Gaelic Football's Hall Of Fame.
His son Tadgh is a star of Aussie Rules Football for the Sydney Swans Today
And though the mighty Tim Kennelly in eternal rest now lay
He will always be remembered as a Gaelic Footballer supreme
Who won five All Irelands with a famous Kerry team.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Those Legs That Once Could Run So Fast
Those legs that once could run so fast feel heavy now and slow
He sure is not the man he was some forty years ago
He played football with his young mates he drank till pub closing time
But that was many years ago when he was in his prime,
On looking back the decades time seems to have gone fast
He had his good days one must suppose though nothing seems to last
And time catches up on all of us though some with hair dye cover their gray
But Mother Nature on us all does have the final say,
Forty five years ago he was the hero of the local Football team
In the cup final he kicked the winning goal a boost to his self esteem
By his team-mates he was shouldered from the field of play the cheers for him rang loud
And thinking of his glorious hour still makes him feel so proud
And now at night he sits at home with his ageing and forgetful wife
And time is catching up on him one might say such is life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Zinnedine Zidane
One of the all time great players a head butt to an opponents chest caused him shame
And with such a cloud hanging over him he retires from the World game
A magician with the soccer ball his likes we may not see again
He will always be remembered as the great Zinnedine Zidane.
'Twas an alleged personal insult that got him all fired up
And with his dismissal went the great dream of France's second World cup
But he will be remembered and football fans will long recall
One of the all time masters of the World game of football.
For one moment of loss of self discipline he must wear a lifetime taint
But is there one amongst us who can claim to be a saint
You will not find many people despite what some might say
Who will turn the other cheek and from insult walk away.
For his skills a lasting impression on so many he did make
And his deeds on the football field from him one cannot take
He will always be remembered as an all time great
In the World game of football with the very best he rate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Let's talk Football
Some people like to talk about the weather
or what they watched the night before on T.V.
many go on and on about their holidays
while others chat about Cars or even Astrology.
But I like to talk about Football
as I've got lots of stories to share
like all the great players I've seen
and games when you just had to be there.
My late Father used to be just the same
as a child I'd take in every word he'd say
I'd sit and listen to him for hours and hours
then grab my ball and go out to play.
I often talk about Football in the pub
and even to strangers standing in a queue
'We won the F.A. Cup once you know,
beating Spurs by three goals to two.'
Once a Jehovah Witness knocked on my door
so I invited him in for a cup of tea
within an hour I converted him into a Football fan
he's now a massive supporter of Coventry City F.C.
My doctor reckoned I needed urgent help
and I saw a specialist that very day
but after talking to a Psychiatrist about Football
he now follows my team at home and away.
They say that talk is cheap
and that may very well be true
but I love talking about the Beautiful Game
because that's what I like to do!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Big Mal
This saturday his team were defeated and after the game in the pub
Big Mal was not in the mood for talking or singing the anthem of his club
Beaten by a point in a thriller but he does not take pride in an honourable defeat
To him victory only matter and winning to him always sweet.
Big Mal he has never played football though football plays a huge part in his life
The football team he supports to him as important as his young son or his beautiful wife
When his team as he calls them win he feels happy but losses he finds hard to take
But after each win he feels happy what a difference a victory can make.
Big Mal is a likeable fellow and so much about him to like
He does not drive his car when he's drinking he cycles to and from the pub on his pushbike
He says I need my driver's licence for work and at the weekend to watch my team play
My wife and son and my football team to me most important he say.
This saturday his team were the losers and Big Mal not happy at all
He feels sad on such an occasion and he never talks of football
But he has next weekend to look forward to and next saturday and sunday night
A win in the pub he may be celebrating and laughing aloud in delight.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I'm On The Football Team
Coach says I'm real good...Best kid in the neighbourhood.
Looks like I've got a future ahead of me.
Starting quarterback, number 13. Mom and Dad are so proud of me.
I'm down with the cool kids, oh yeah.
They know I'm cool, the chicks dig me, and it's okay.
I get replaced, but it's alright, 'cause they all know...I'm on the football team.
Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na
I'm on the football team. (x2)
I'm getting chicks left and right. They're lined up for Saturday night.
Just to go down on me, oh yeah.
And when I walk down the hall, all of the nerds and geeks fall,
down on their knees and worship me.
They know I'm cool, the chicks dig me, and it's okay.
I get replaced, but it's alright, 'cause they all know...I'm on the football team.
Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na
I'm on the football team. (x4)
Hey dad guess what!
What's that son?
I'm on the football team.
Well jimminy in the buckhole.
Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na
I'm on the football team. (x4)
song performed by by All American Rejects
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Memory From 85
I've always thought that Gaelic Football was a grand and a sporting game
But after witnessing a match between Rockchapel and Kiskeam
Played in the Gaelic Playing Field half a mile from Knocknagree
The uglier side of Gaelic Football was all brought home to me.
'Twas Duhallow B league final on an evening in July
And with little to enthuse about for a neutral such as I
A scrappy game of football and the language it was crude
And both sets of supporters were mouthing loud and rude
And I watched on in silence and I could not feel amused
When a linesman by an old Rockchapel mentor was abused
And one could feel the tension rising and things were boiling to a brawl
And 'twould not be a night for sportsmanship or classical football.
And worse was to come later and an ugly sight to see
A young Rockchapel player assaulting the referee
And when he received his marching orders and refused to leave the field
The ref to intimidation rightly refused to yield.
The ref blew the final whistle with Kiskeam to the fore
They had won a tarnished victory by a mere five points to four
In a brutal game of football they'd survived a gruelling test
But at kicking and at mouthing they had come out second best.
'Twas a sad night for Gaelic Football and Duhallow's night of shame
And I'm not pardoning Kiskeam they must partly share the blame
But for a cup and set of medals and with little else at stake
For their attitude and thuggery Rockchapel took the cake.
The ref's motor van was interfered with and a door lock it got broke
By a wild man from Rockchapel a half crazed gray haired bloke
And this rowdy behaviour over a game of ball
It's no wonder I felt sickened fairly sickened by it all.
I've always thought that Gaelic football did not have an ugly side
That the players and spectators on their native game took pride
But now I know quite different and I see things differently
Since that Duhallow local derby game that was played in Knocknagree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Suppose Football Does Serve A Purpose
Suppose football does serve a purpose some males do need other interests in their lives
Than working or drinking of alcohol or arguing with or making love to their girl friends or wives
On saturday they go to the football to cheer on their team win or lose
'Tis better for them than going to the local and wasting their money on the booze
At least watching football they won't be losing brain cells as they do when they are on the grog
And next day feeling nauseated and hung over and as sick as a very sick dog
Their partners and wives happy to see them going to the football for to support their football club
They feel that for them it is far better than guzzling down grog at the pub
In football there can be disappointments when your team does not win the game
But for every winner there is a loser and to lose should never be a shame
There's more to life than grog and work and women there is that marvellous game known as football
To you and many others 'tis a passion and your team to you is the greatest team of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Look at the Time! (A Drinking Song)
Look at the time! It's half-past six!
Time for me to be getting my kicks!
I'll have some whisky,
It'll make me frisky,
And then I'll get up to my usual tricks!
Look at the time! It's half-past seven!
And I feel that I should be going to heaven!
I'll have some rum
'Cos I'm not dumb,
And then I'll be drunk by ten to eleven!
Look at the time! It's half-past eight!
I didn't know it was getting so late!
I'll have some brandy
Instead of shandy,
And then I'll be able to face my fate!
Look at the time! It's half-past nine!
(And I know that this doesn't really rhyme!)
I'll have some gin,
It's a bit of a sin,
It's time for a party and I'm feeling fine!
Look at the time! It's half-past ten!
Time to go back to bed again!
I really think
I've had enough to drink,
But I'll be back on the bottle tomorrow again!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Football Farce
Football managers and players should hang their heads in shame,
For what they've done to our traditional football game.
Now sportsmen in the game are a dying breed,
with managers and players getting rich with greed.
Sportsmen! They are not, for they will cheat and connive,
winning free kicks and penalties by taking a dive.
Pushing, pulling and shirts being torn,
Punching and swearing are now the norm.
After a night on drugs and all night boozing,
players get violent if their team is loosing.
The managers aren't any better when staring at defeat,
encouraging players to go out there and cheat.
If the players do wrong and it's plain to see,
the managers will argue and blame the referee.
And now referees are getting in on this shameful act,
with the top premier clubs they've now formed a pact.
If the top club is loosing, then with the last kick of the ball,
the referee gives them a penalty for no good reason at all.
If that doesn't help they commit another dreadful crime,
by giving them another chance by adding on extra time.
The F.A. watches these games and don't seem to mind,
What's up with them? are they totally blind?
The F.A. should now hang their heads in shame,
for they have let money and greed ruin our football game.
That's why I have finally decided to call it a day,
Football ain't getting anymore of my hard earnt pay.
By
Alan Weston
© Copyright Reserved 2007
poem by Alan Weston
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The Joy Of Their Laughter
The children are playing football in the park off of the street
The joy in their laughter it does sound so sweet
'Tis true youth is such a marvellous thing
Like the flowers of the fields that bloom lovely in Spring.
The joy of their laughter bring back memories to me
Of happy boyhood days of any cares free
In the Town park on Summer evenings we kicked the football
Such wonderful memories are good to recall
The years went so quickly and time did not wait
And I've grown grayer and slower and I'm putting on weight
The future belongs to the youth of today
Though they too will grow to learn that time quickly ticks away.
Some of those I went to school with now with the dead lay
And some are grand parents and their grand children play
The games they themselves played they run up and down
In pursuit of the football in the park by the Town.
As I walk to the bottle shop for to buy beer
The laughter of the children playing football I hear
Their best days approaching and mine in the past
But time keeps on ticking and nothing does last.
poem by Francis Duggan
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