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World Poetry Day: Football is dead

As we celebrate World Poetry Day today, the wonderful wordsmith who goes by the name Jamie Cutteridge has penned a piece straight from his heart for us all to enjoy and endear. Maybe football isn’t dead, just yet?

Football is dead

“Football is dead, and we have killed it”
Said the man with the brown anorak,
He grunted at players and sipped on his Bovril,
And sniped at young players from the back

His grievances came from the teams at the top,
He said they had ruined his game,
He didn’t see the irony in slagging them off,
Whilst buying their shirts all the same.

Murdoch, blatter, keys and gray,
were the folks that made fella so irate.
Even Jamie Redknapp, his beautiful hair,
Was the subject of old codger’s hate.

But football has changed
it’s just not the same,
and I’m sure on that we agree,
it’s all about money, and less about fame,
and why don’t they kick off at three?

Perhaps it is different, perhaps it is not,
but sometimes we all moan too much,
it’s still 11 men, kicking round an old ball,
be you English, Spanish or Dutch.

The game on TV is still played down the park,
with jumpers for goalposts and that,
but then you see Nani and stupid green boots,
and that tool Balotelli in his hat.

You can moan all you like, but there’s fun to be had
the game isn’t quite dead as yet.
The glamour, the grounds and the fans still excite,
and the sound of ball hitting net.

Communities together supporting their team,
bringing folks come together from afar,
perhaps there is hope for the game that we love,
even if Blatter remains football Tsar.

And that there we have it, football is saved,
through the medium of words, rhyme and verse,
I think I’ll stop now, I’m no poet you see,
lets face it, It’s just getting worse.

You can follow Jamie’s entertaining ramblings about football, music and most importantly Alan Shearer on twitter @JamieCutteridge. Go and thank him.

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