Wailing
for Wayne
If you’re thinking of us, Wayne, you should hang your head in
shame,
‘Cos you’ve left us and we don’t know what to do.
You forsook the Sacred Blue for the red shirt of Man U,
Things at Goodison will never be the same.
And although with grief we’re stricken and we’re choking back
the tears,
(Your Betrayal leaves us racked with boundless pain).
We will often think about you in the next few coming years,
Meanwhile hear our parting words, Beloved Wayne.
Oh, you can change the colour of your shirt.
And you can wear another brand of boots.
Can sign your sponsor deals, and broaden your appeal,
No doubt you’ll earn a thousand times more loot.
You can win the Title, and you can lift the Cup,
And you could even scoop the Champions’ League.
And you can grab the headlines, and you can strut your stuff,
But are you sure success will taste so sweet?
For still you know, Dear Wayne, there’s something you can’t
change:
The fact that you’re a Scouser from the street.
Now you can take a train, a chopper or a plane,
And head to party down at Saint Tropez.
And
you can play roulette, and place your hefty bet,
And lose one hundred grand in just one day.
Yes, you can leave your home, can wander, range and roam,
And you can travel, travel far and wide.
Forget
your humble roots, take part in fashion-shoots,
Have any girl you fancy for your bride.
And yet you know, Dear Wayne, there’s something you can’t change:
The fact that you were born on Merseyside.
Then you can treat yourself and splash out on a posher pad,
And wallow in your king-size swimming pool.
You’ll drive a flasher car, sip champagne, eat caviar,
Invite your mates for tasty barbecues.
And you can have a ring put through your ear or through your
nose,
And you can sport the trendiest tattoo.
Can stock your walnut wardrobe with the best designer clothes,
Or even wear a pair of high-heeled shoes.
But we all know, Dear Wayne, there’s something you can’t change:
The Blood, the Blood that’s flowing through your veins.
That Blood is deepest Blue, ‘tis of no other hue,
You’re a Scouser, you’re a Toffee born and bred.
And
in spite of what you’ve done, you are still Our Favourite Son,
(Though we think you’ve gone completely off your head).
We’re your family, we’re your friends, your beginning and your
end,
We’re your body, we’re your heart and we’re your soul.
We’re
your conscience, we’re your mind, which you cannot leave behind,
Like the shadow that pursues you when you stroll.
Now you’ve made your well-timed Move, played the Judas, spurned
our Love,
And we wonder how you with yourself can live.
Though
you’ve acted like a w.a.n.k.e.r, we’ll not bear you any rancour,
Nay, if you come back, we’ll readily forgive.
For you should know, Dear Wayne, one thing will stay unchanged:
The Love, the Love that in our hearts remains…
©
Denys
E. W. Jones. (07/09/04)
Franny
boy
Oh Franny boy, the Arsenal was calling,
You warmed the bench, the thing you do so well.
Your chance was gone, your form was just appalling,
And we all laughed, at your crap Arsenal spell.
But
back you came when Moyes had taken over,
And when the Blues were finally on the up,
And on Good Friday, Judas betrayed us again,
And Judas looked, just like the FA Cup.
And
if you come,when we have won the Champions’ league,
And beg to join the team that you so love,
You´ll come and find that we think you’re a traitor,
For on Good Friday, Moyes gave you the shove.
And
we shall hear you crying to come back again
And we’ll all laugh at Jug-eared Judas J,
And you´ll have failed, your crap career over,
So fare thee well, you ugly little gay.
Oh
Franny boy, the Nationwide is calling
You’ll join some team, and down the league they’ll slide
Your chance is gone, and your career’s failing
Thank God you’ve gone. God help the Nationwide!
Loving
your site, ©*Em*
The poem may be sung
to the tune of 'Danny Boy'
The
ToffeeMen
The
Science Academy
It was a grand place to be
With Kendall, Ball and Colin Harvey
The great blue kipper
And the joy of a goal
That came from Billy Dean
Who warmed the soul
And then the days
Grew dark and gloomy
Until the reds rejected
A lad called Wayne Rooney....
©
blue nose
Goodison
On
Gwlady street, one winters day
Was born a chubby lad
Who five days later, wrapped in wools
At Goodison was sat
We
played the Spurs, that rainy day
Or so my old Da said
And won 3-0, so what a way
To 'wet' the baby's head
And
as a kid, come Saturdays
The town was full of talk
If we were home, my Da and I
Would take the shortest walk
We
stood there proudly, cheering on
The greatest in the land
And felt like kings, Surrounded by
This football palace Grand
Oh
Goodison, my home from home,
A place I love to be
With 40 thousand other Blues
As passionate as me
But
alas the times are changing
It's money now that talks
And soon I fear no longer shall
I take the shortest walk
But
Everton has tradition,
That was built by toiling hands
That made this grand old club of ours
The greatest in the land
I
appeal to you with all I am
At Goodison we must stay
It's the place that's TRULY Everton
In every single way
For
Goodison is in my heart
Blue blood runs with pride
That's something that you cannot buy
These feelings deep inside.
©
Kris Wetton
You
gave me the faith
(An evening in November 1968)
The
darkest of evenings, the start of so much,
excitement so real, I could reach out and touch,
the years watching Chester though welcome and fun,
now mere preparation for seasons to come.
It started so simply, a message to phone
Uncle Joe at his house, when from school I got home.
“Delivering leaflets”, I thought it might be,
“Rebel songs in the car”, and then Aunty’s for tea.
But this was an evening, a Tuesday and dark!,
how was I to know this meant Goodison Park!
’68 was the year, and at 12 years of age,
I knew all of the stars that had graced that great stage,
from Dixie to Hickson, all giants so tall,
from Mercer to Bingham, “the Vision” to Ball.
And now I would see them, at last, playing live,
the Blues playing Chelsea - Joe’s car leaves at 5.
I sat in the back, never making a sound,
all the time my neck craning for a sight of the ground.
Then at last I could see it, all lit up and blue,
the home of the greatest, my dreams had come true.
The night was fantastic, the blues won 3-1,
and though Bally was missing, the deed had been done.
For thirty years now I have suffered the pain,
the losses, the victories, the glory, the shame.
And its all down to you, and that trip that we made,
on a night in November when the blue seed was laid,
after great nights so many, and bad nights - a few,
I’m eternally grateful that you took me with you.
Everton for Ever - Nil satis nisi optimum
©
Gerard. November 1998.
Blue
Heaven in '77
The
Sunshine was Meltin' the Putty
an' the Tarmac and Curlin' yer Butty.
It was '77 an' July an' HEAVEN
'cos there's Still Five More Weeks to Play FOOTIE
In
the Park or The Field or The Playground
or the Square at the end of Our Street.
With a Flyaway Ball that The Dog Sometimes Burst
when He Stole it from Under Yer Feet !
We'd
All Knock fer Mike 'cos a Casey 'e 'ad
though None of Us Liked the "Get" Much
But the Game was Just ACE with a Quality Ball
Though NO ONE gave Michael a Touch !
The
Summers So Long when we played "Three an' In"
when there was enough 'ad a Match
and When You came in You were Late and Grass-Stained
and yer Mam left the Door on the Latch.
Graham
was Duncan Mackenzie
an' Sulked if 'is Team din't Win
I was A FATTER Bob Latchford
and Never Did Score for Me Sins.
(
I Never Scored Thirty - Jus' Got Me Knees Dirty
an' Never Did Keep the Match Ball !
I Jus' Missed "Sitters" and Wished I Was Fitter
an' All that I Won Was Fuck All ! )
Bri'
was As Diddy as Jonesey
but Never Got Over A Cross
'is Socks were as Low - But 'is Passin' Was S - L - O - W
an' 'e Didn't Give Even A Toss !
A
Bottle o' Water Got Scavved at 'arf Time
from an 'ouse at the edge of The Park
Peter Was Cheeky an' Just 'ad No Shame
an' Asked ( If their Dog didn't Bark ! )
We
Played Untl Dusk and Then Under a Lamp
if the The Scores were Still Even at Nine
In The Dark we'd go 'ome an' the Losers would Moan
an' the Winners Jus' Laffin an' Fine.
No
Playstation 3 - No P-C - Jus' GRASS
and Days Without Count Until School
an' We Thought that Bein' a Kid Would Just Last
Forever - an' 'OLIDAYS RULED !
©
Ray Bessant.
The
Rooney Rap
by
David Humphreys. (Aged 10)
We all love Wayne Rooney
so lets go looney,
we all love David Moyes
and his blue boys.
We hate Micky Owen
to Portugal he's not going,
We don't like Houllier
and I know he's gay!
We all love Wayne Rooney
so lets go looney,
we all love David Moyes
and his blue boys.
We all love Richard Wright
and we know he ain't shite,
we all love Radzinski
is he the next Sharpy?
We all love Wayne Rooney
so lets looney,
we all love David Moyes
and his blue boys.
We all know that
David Beckham is fat
,you know Alan Shearer ?
He likes a beer.
Weall love Wayne Rooney
so lets go looney,
We all David Moyes
and his blue boys
The
Blue Flag
Standing
alone or in thousands
In private bars or in public houses
Wearing tracksuit bottoms or trousers
At midday or in the early hours
The
lowest lows and the highest highs
With happiness and sadness ive cried
Sat back in a lull and sighed
But bounced back with a pint and a smile a mile wide
On
differing surfaces - mudbanks or green
On video tapes or in magazines
In sleepy thoughts or in wildest dreams
There should only be room in your life for one team
With
the Z Cars sound my life stands still
My body shakes and my spine chills
Another 90 minutes of the boys doing their stuff
We are the best, only that is good enough
Marsden
can walk with his red men
I want to march with Everton
While they get sick in the wind and rain
We get stronger under skies of grey
So
take your tankards and your red rosettes
Your Redknapp blankets and your James haircuts
Stick them up your Arsenal ’89
With your tacky training shoes and I wish you grey skies
Stuff
your shitty liver birds as she falls from grace
Stuff your Shankly-isms and your fucking Jimmy Case
Fuck your shitty hangers-on and their glory-grabbing mates
And fuck your ugly shitty kits and your souvenir plates
Fuck
your whinging manager and Moran his twat side-kick
Fuck your diseased Spion Kop and all it’s dirty pissing pricks
Fuck your supporters clubs and your dodgy penalty kicks
And fuck the nasty suits that make the whole shite tick
While
we may not win, we never lose
You are born an Evertonian, you cannot choose
Stay loyal, proud, determined and true
Keep the flag you fight for blue.
written by Park End Northern Scum
SIMPLY
EVERTON By Sam Humphreys Age 9
First
of all there's Wayne Rooney,
scored a goal at 16,
he's one of the best and youngest players
that you have ever seen.
IT'S
SIMPLY EVERTON
Second
there's Duncan Ferguson,
one of the biggest you'll ever see,
then there's a chinese player,
spelled backwards called Tie Li!
These
are just some of the Everton squad
their success is like a lightning rod
always building up,
Ready for the cup
IT'S
SIMPLY EVERTON
After
that there's Rodrigo,
A player born in Brazil,
and with all these classic players,
we'll beat our rivals 10-0
The
score on the scoreboard is magical,
but only if we win,
we stopped the Gunners in their tracks
and put them in the bin!
IT'S
SIMPLY GOT TO BE EVERTON
Then
there's Thomas Gravesen
the bald headed scorer galore,
and when these men are on the pitch
all we do is score
So
now I've told you some of the Everton squad
I hope that you're not sad,
but I have a solution
read it loud with Mum and Dad (only if they're Evertonians not
LiverPOO)
IT'S
SIMPLY EVERTON
Poetic
justice
They
play in dirty red
And a sickly coloured white
They've got a lot of nicknames
Most commonly 'the sh*te'!
Their
boring manager is French
With big white bulging eyes
When Thompson lifts his head up
Planes fall from the skies!
The
tin cup treble winners
In the hall of fame?
All they ever really did
Was play the long ball game
They
wanted the semi-final
With the devils so red
But Ballack sorted that out
And put the tie to bed
We
never see the kopites
Or hear the Anifeld roar
All we get from Hansen & Co.
Is 'Liverpool what a bore!'
So
to sum up this little story
In a manner so true
Liverpool are quite simply
A total load of poo!
© JP 2002.
ODE
TO BAYER LEVERKUSEN
WE,LL
HAMMER LEVERKUSEN
THAT'S WHAT THE KOPITES SAID
WHEN THEY TRAVELLED OFF TO DEUTCHLAND
WITH A GOAL FROM THE FIRST LEG
BUT
LIFE IS FULL OF PITS AND FALLS
FOR THOSE WHO BRAG AND BOAST
LEVERKUSEN RUN THEM RAGGED
YOU,D SWEAR THE,D SEEN A GHOST
LOOKING
FOR A FALL GUY
HAMMAN WAS THE ONE THEY CHOSE
NO SOONER HAD HE LEFT THE PITCH
LEVERKUSEN,S SPIRIT ROSE
TWO
GOALS IN QUICK SUCCESSION
WAS ENOUGH TO SEAL THEIR FATE
KOPITES BEGAN TO SCATTER
CLIMBING OVER EVERY GATE
THEY
TURNED ON GERARD HOULLIER
YOUNG OWEN TOO GOT STICK
THE FACT THEIR DREAM WAS OVER
IT MADE THEM BLOODY SICK
IT,S
LEFT TO MAN UTD NOW
THE BEST OF BULLDOG BREED
TO SEE OFF ALL THE CHALLENGERS
AND WIN THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE
SO
REMEMBER NOW YOU KOPITES
NOW THAT YOU HAVE BEEN DESPATCHED
NEVER COUNT YOUR CHICKENS THEY SAY
UNTILL EVERY ONE HAS HATCHED.
J B SNR.
NIL SATIS NISI OPTIMUM.
THE PEOPLES CLUB…….
Desmitherata
Go
placidly amid the boos and the hisses,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
Mancs and RS aside, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
listen to others, then ignore them
especially the dull and the ignorant;
unless they are going to buy your unwanted players.
Don't sign young, agile, and aggressive players;
they are vexatious to the spirit and would show up the rest
of the crocks.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater Managers than yourself (not
within a fifty mile radius of GP (except for Dave Watson of
course)) .
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however precarious;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, your transfer dealings,
your team selections ,your substitutions,your formations, your
tactics,
and everything else under the sun,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
Evertonians strive for high ideals,
and are paragons of stoicism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about their hope,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take with a pinch of salt the counsel of the Fans,
but find room in the side for youth.
Nurture a taste for spirits to shield you in sudden misfortune
(well it works for Alex Ferguson).
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many injuries are caused by overtraining.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with the squad.
You are a custodian of Everton
no less than the players and the staff;
you are priveledged to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to us,
maybe our history is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with The Vicar of St Lukes,
whatever you may think of him.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of the Match,
keep Gazza on the staff.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful game.
Be cheerful. Win the FA Cup.
©
Eric the Blue (Eric Sullivan)
The
People's Flag...
The
People's flag is Royal Blue,
Is carried by those good and true,
And ere their hopes were bought and sold,
Their blue blood dyed its every fold.
Then raise the azure standard high.
Within its shade we'll live and die,
Though koppites flinch and manures sneer,
We'll keep the Blue flag flying here.
Look round, the Scotsman loves its blaze,
The sturdy Dane there chants its praise,
In Football's Grounds its hymns are sung
Our children swell the surging throng.
It waved above our dormant might,
When all ahead seemed dark as night;
It witnessed many a deed and vow,
We must not change its colour now.
It well recalls achievements past,
It gives the hope of triumph at last;
The banner bright, the symbol plain,
Of Blue Man's right and Blue Man's gain.
It suits today the weak and dim,
Whose minds are fixed on wealth and spin
To cringe before the media's frown,
And haul the sacred emblem down.
With heads uncovered swear we all
To bear it onward till we fall;
Come trafford dark or anfield grim,
This song shall be our parting hymn.
©
Eric the Blue (Eric Sullivan)
With
apologies to Jim Connell, "Red" Blues, and Lefties
everywhere. Cheers. Eric the Blue. (26/04/02)
