A chunk of history that continues to develop today but not necessarily in the direction that one would expect or want.
For Football Fans
'Possess yer soul in patience lad',
me mam was getting fed up,
I’ d been worked up for two years,
‘Get ready’, music to the youthful ears.
Like a religion for me dad,
part of life’s simple rich routine,
havin worked hard all week,
nee great reward for ordinary men to seek.
At last judged a big enough lad,
today the day when I could gan wi’im,
a pilgrimage across toon ter Roker Park,
to the magical stage where The Lads lark.
Even the bus ride - great wi’ me dad,
the 103 thundered into Park Lane,
and then would begin the rapid lang walk,
passed Saturday shoppers with their excited talk.
‘Can yer slow down a bit Dad,’
a mantra repeated a hundred times,
as he strode on towards our ultimate goal,
driven by the need to escape king coal.
‘Are they all gannin ter the match Dad?’
of men in flat caps waakin’ the same way,
we have to gan early to get yer a spot,
so yer can see iv'ry brilliant pass and shot.
A’ve nivver seen so many people dad,
thousands comin’ t’gether to watch the play,
and only a couple a bob to get in the ground,
‘just wait till yer hear the cheering sound.’
It’s called the Roker Roar lad,
yer’ll understand why very soon son,
the red and white clad warriors take the stage,
the uncorked sound burst like a demented rage.
Haway its time to gan yem lad,
but there’s still ten minutes to gan,
we can catch the Economic ter Park Lane son,
that saved me legs from another lang run.
Sit down and eat yer tea bonny lad,
pie and peas ter replenish energy debt,
but nowt can detract from match day,
even intervening years that’ve gone away.
Nowadays it’d be hard to fathom dad,
all the money, celebrity and drama,
nee longer a community relievin’ recreation,
but sadly a rapaciously fiscal operation.
©David L Atkinson October 2024
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