Tuesday, 18 September 2012

All Apologies

All Apologies

The youth of today just won’t understand
What life in the eighties was like
Food on the table was paramount
And very few kids had a bike.

England was being run into the ground
A battle scene version of Hades
Labour Left Liverpool cast adrift
By Margaret the Iron lady

What happened on that April day
Embodied that Tory decease
Third class fans in rundown grounds
Impunity for the police

Duckenfield, clueless, out of his depth,
Up to his neck in pain and death
In Devon where he lays his head
May that day haunt your every breath

Pitiless Poppers post-mortem
Deliberate, callous and cruel
Accidental death at three fifteen?
Who were you trying to fool?

Thatchers police had served her so well
Waving notes at the down trodden miners
Cover up, statements were altered
How evil was blood testing minors?

Tory Boy Patnick went to work
Casting shame on the dead and the dying
For planting lies a knighthood earned
We always knew you were lying

And now the truth is out at last
They spout their sickly faux sorry
They’ll get what’s coming soon enough
Justice will see them the quarry

Thatcher now old and quite senile
Still an icon of anger and hate
No rejoicing til she’s safe and sound
In the Hades she tried to create

Great to see the truth finaly come out, a disgrace it took so long.
This poem equally applies to the Graham Kelly, Boris Johnson, the evil Kelvin McKenzie and all the other fools who believed the lies.
Your apologies are worthless.

Friday, 7 September 2012

Through a young boys eyes

Through a young boys eyes.
Are we still eighth in the table dad?
My small lad asked of me.
We are, I said with heavy heart
Curse of the devotee

He’s witnessed 12 home games this year
He’s cheered and clapped like me.
But left mostly in sadness
We’ve won only the three

When he walks back in the door
His mother asks the score
“Disaster mam” he utters
As more points drain down the shore

And just like his dear old dad
He won’t stop going to games
Cos we support Cork City
Though our season is in flames

And if we lose another few
I’ll elucidate just why?
Players, Gaffers, come and go
But we’re City ‘til we die
Still eighth with the teams below us closing fast.
We could be in trouble if we don't win a match soon.