The Locals Are The Premiers
Above the Local oval for twelve months will fly the Premiership flag
The Locals are the Premiers they can afford to brag
Down at the Footy Club they are celebrating and singing the Club song
The fans are in a party mood they will sing all night long.
The Locals are the Premiers the champion team this year
Their fans are celebrating they will drink heaps of beer
Since the final siren was blown today the fans have sung long and loud
The Local team have won the day and have done themselves proud.
Lets hear it for the Premiers a mighty hip hooray
The local football fans are cheering in this their greatest day
For the winners joy and the losers heartache that's life as some would say
Life has it's good and bad times and it has always been this way.
The local football team are Premiers and their fans celebrate
Two decades since the last flag was won but it was a worth the wait
The town pubs are in a festive mood they will party on all night
And down at the Football Club Rooms the fans whoop in delight.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Post Grand Final '2008
Don't want to hear or to see the Grand Final replay
We know the results it was played yesterday
The Hawks of Hawthorn beat the Cats of Geelong
The experts and punters this time got it wrong
The favourites as we know in finals sometimes get beat
And for the team, club and supporters no joy in defeat
But there's always next year a new football season begin
But as in life one has to lose for another to win
The Hawthorn Club and their fans celebrate
Their own piece of history they did create
At Glenferrie Oval flies the Premiership flag
The winners are happy the winners can brag
In football as in life one's loss is another one's gain
But next year the losers for glory they can try again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Post Grand Final Day
For the winners many weeks of hip hip hooray
And the feeling of joy with their fans months does stay
But for one to win one must lose as some do say
And for the losers only sadness post Grand Final Day.
And since winning is what only does seem to count
Gallant in defeat to little does seem to amount
The joy in victory is always sweet
There is never any glory in defeat.
Those uninterested in sports say football is just a game
That who wins or who loses life goes on the same
But those who support football clubs never see it that way
They do get quite excited watching their team play.
To play in a Grand Final is many a boy's dream
And be a champion player in a Premiership Team
But on post Grand Final day only the winners celebrate
And for their victory their fans say 'twas well worth the wait.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In Sports As In Life
The town decorated in the colours of the local football club for the weekend's big game
Suppose in sports as in life it is all about winning and fame
The local footballers are playing for renown
For the fans and love of self glory and love of the Hometown
And for love of the club colours they proudly do wear
The very thought of losing even seems hard to bear
To the uninterested 'tis just another game of football
But in sports as in life the winners seem to take all
Of the admiration and fame and of singing their praises their fans never tire
And even gallant losers so few seem to admire
To be graceful in defeat to little does amount
In sports as in life only winners seem to count
At the weekend they play for the trophy and their self glory and sporting renown
And for their sporting succes hungry fans and for love of their Hometown.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Big match tomorrow
Really big game on Saturday
playing a team at the top
told my mates to be there
let the women go to the shops.
The club is having a bad season
losing more games than we win
so we need to get really behind them
and they need to play out of their skin.
Being at the bottom is depressing
that's why fans are staying away
but we love our football club
that's why we'll be there on Saturday.
The away fans will be full of themselves
and to them it will be a great day out
because their team will be favourites
and they'll think it will be easy no doubt.
So we'll make lots of noise and never shut up
and keep on singing till our throats are sore
because that's what a true football fan does
they keep on going even when the team is poor.
So I'll keep my fingers crossed that we win
if we do I'll be really happy on Saturday night
not only because my team was victorious
but I'll be leaving the pub as high as a kite!
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Footy Barracker
He does love his football his meat pie and beer
And when his team win so loudly he does cheer
He talks with his footy mates at the local pub
Of the weekend game and the winning chances of the club
His wife says that football has gone to his head
That his footy beanie he even wears with him to bed
The barrackers lives revolve around work, family the pub and the game
And footy widows for their wives is an often used nickname
And which club barrackers will sing their club song on that big day in September
In a moment for to cherish and until death to remember
For the losers disappointment for the winners sheer elation
And post Grand Final for a week or more great nights of celebration
It will make his year on Grand Final day if his team is the winner
Whilst he is talking footy in the pub his wife is home cooking dinner.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I'm A Fan
It’s football season again
I hope my team does well this year
Football season again
I’m a fan
It’s football season again
Spread that ball across the field
Football season again
I’m a fan
Through the cold and the rain
I’ll be there at the game
A voice screaming to be heard
I’ll cry sometimes, sometimes I’ll smile
As my voice echoes through the crowd
I’m a fan, I’m a fan, I’m a fan
It’s football season again
I hope my team does well this year
Football season again
I’m a fan
It’s football season again
Tackle hard and play it fair
Football season again
I’m a fan
And at the end of the year
We’ll be dressed in the gear
As they turn to salute the crowd
And we’ll stand with pride
‘Cause they’re our side
And we’ll sing their praises loud
We’re the fans, We’re the fans, We’re the fans
Copyright Colin Coplin 2004 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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Another Football Season
Another Football Season has just commenced having said so just the same
A lot of hype and excitement about a field game
For many from their life problems a relief of sorts
Suppose that's why the establishments created sports.
Some things do seem to change little from year to year
Of football fans discussing football one often does hear
They talk of their Club as if the Club they did own
'Tis from people like them that Football Clubs are grown.
They talk of team ratings and player stats and of last weekend's best on ground
And of who their team are due to play in the next round
And the forward with a goal for the taking who kicked a behind
Next week with the seconds a place he may not find.
Another Football Season commencing the barracker's wife
She does feel neglected but then such is life
He knows about Football and the words of the Club song
And his heart to the Club it does surely belong.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Just An Ordinary Fellow
His life revolves around work his mates and football
But his wife and children he seldom does talk of at all
Each evening after work he calls to the pub
Or else to the bar-room of the Football Club.
In his early to mid thirties he is well liked in the town
To have kicked five goals in the local Grand Final is his one claim to renown
And though his team did not win the flag he earned his local fame
With a best on ground display on a beaten side he made for himself a name.
His wife takes care of the children a boy of four and a girl of three
She is not well known in the town few as down to earth as she
So different from her husband she's never seen at the pub
And she is not a member of any local club.
He is a well liked character and in the town well known
And the local people say of him he is one of our own
Not a bad husband and father though better than him not hard to find
Just an ordinary fellow in his own way he is kind.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Football Fans
We're Glenavon loyal true
Football fans in royal blue,
Hear us see us clap our hands
Hear us see us in the stands.
Saturday on football day
It's Mourneview park for for us,
Saturday the games away
We pile onto the bus.
We fly our flags big banner's long
Shout our voice we sing our song.
We're the best fans ever seen
All our pride play on the green.
Our team manager he's the man
Our team manager has a plan
The plans for all the team in blue
To win the league and see it through.
poem by Gerald Follis Lurgan
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The Woman Five Doors Down
The woman five doors down tells me her son Ted is the best player in the school football team
And that one day he will play in an A.F.L. Grand Final and that more than once of late she's had this dream
Of watching him receive the Coleman medal for best on ground on football's biggest day
Watched by well over ninety thousand people who cheer him on with a loud hip hooray.
But locals who know of football and watched Ted play say he will never play at the top grade
That he won't go down Swanston Street in the back of a lorry
to loud applause in the Grand Final Parade
They say his mother greatly over rates him and that in his team he's just an average player
And that not one in his club will play A.F.L. football with good under age players they do not compare
Ted's mother believes her son will be a football hero and she seemed so convinced that she convinced me
But others who have seen him play say different and with her opinions they do not agree
They say that she will end up disappointed that her dreams for her son will not come true
That he won't make a career out of football another line of work he must pursue.
The woman five doors down tells me her son Ted will one day play in the famed M.C.G.
And be the hero of a great Grand Final in a game that will go down in history
And though others seem to think that she's only dreaming I hope her son will be a football great
And that she will applaud him in the Grand Final and the football fans his name will celebrate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Tense And Nervous At The Match
Massive game today
butterflies in my stomach
can feel my heart beating
beads of sweat on my brow.
But I'm not even playing
I'm just a loyal supporter
but we need the win so much
a fan who loves his football club.
The referee has blown his whistle
our fans are singing and chanting
the away fans are singing as well
they need three points as much as us.
The game is swinging to and fro
they have hit the post and so have we
then with five minutes till half time
they are awarded a dodgy penalty.
Our keeper tries to put the taker off
he jumps up and down on his line
he strikes it hard to the goalies left
the keeper alas dives to his right instead.
One down at the interval it's off to the bar
us fans moaning about the dreadful decision
then after a pint it's back to the stands
to start cheering on our team once again.
We go on the attack right from the start
our striker bangs one on to their bar
then we get a bit of luck at last
the referee has given us a dodgy penalty.
There keeper jumps up and down on his line
but our taker stands with hands on hips
then cooly trots up and hits it to the right
there keeper dives down to his left.
One all now with ten minutes to go
us fans are going crazy getting behind the team
then we all end up hugging and leaping about
because our striker has smacked it in the net.
The ref blows his whistle it's the end of the game
we all stand and clap our beloved team off
it's off to the pub for a great night out
it feels so good when your team gets a win!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Voices of the Fans
It is only 38 degrees here in the windy city on this first day of April. If you go by just the weather you can’t even tell that this is the 20th day of spring. Well I know it springs from the sounds my ears hear. Not bees buzzing or birds chirping but the voices of the fan. The fans of America’s greatest past time baseball. The excitement and hope in each fans’ voice as the season begins. Fans Argue with one another but not in anger but in fun defending their team. Every fans a manger and know exactly what their team needs to win. Yeah the weather might make it feel like it is still winter but the voices of the fans lets me know it is spring.
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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Young David The Under Fourteen
With the local football club he plays under fourteen
In their football colours the black, brown and green
He dreams in the A F L he will star one day
Against Australia's finest he will be picked to play.
Everytime I see young David he's with the egg shaped ball
Playing by himself or with other boys in the park for his age he is tall
His dream is to play as number one ruckman for his favourite team Geelong
Enjoying a great victory as he sings the Club song.
Most boys of his age have a wish or a dream
To win a gold medal or play with a top football team
But not all dreams do come true everyone can't know fame
Still it is nice to dream of great things just the same.
He is the top ruckboy in his football team
And as a player of promise he knows local esteem
But few good juvenile players into great players grow
And young David he still has a long way to go.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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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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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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The Town Poets
They have the ticket draw for the football club
But never a poets hour at the local pub
'Twould seem that cricket and football are the in thing
And horse racing at the back end of the Spring
But of course the Town poets have their own poetry night
On saturday evenings at the bowling club rooms their poems they recite
The local lovers of poetry their night out enjoy
To watch local favourite poets such as Rina, Kate and Roy
Reciting their poetry and strutting their stuff
It cannot be said of them not quite good enough
Quite talented poets the tops of the Town
Young poets in their thirties who dream of renown
And recite their poems in the rooms of the bowling club
Whilst it's a different scene at the Town's biggest pub.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Young Fellow Next Door
The young fellow next door barracks for Hawthorn
And after school he kicks the egg shaped ball
He wants to be as great as Jason Dunstall
And that his name football historians will recall.
He wants to don the brown and gold of Hawthorn
And star in a grand final winning team
But the road ahead won't be easy for Tony
If one day he's to realize his dream.
If he is to be a great footy player
He must train hard for twelve months every year
He must impress the coaches and football scouts
And stay well clear of narcotics and beer.
The young fellow next door says he'll be famous
And that for the Hawthorn Football club he'll Play
And that he will be the talk of all Australia
Ten years from now on the grand final day.
A nine year old with big dreams is the schoolboy Tony
He says i'll be an Aussie sporting great
And i will lead Hawthorn back to glory
And the footy fans my name will celebrate.
On every street there is one like young Tony
Who has this dream of an enduring fame
Who is the hero of the great Grand Final
And kicks the famous goal that wins the game.
poem by Francis Duggan
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