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Duncan Edwards

Twas The Night Before Football....

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Twas the night before Football,

when all through the house

Not a creature was moaning, not even the spouse.

Lucky pants were hung on the radiator with care,

To ensure three points and that my bum wasn’t bare.

The eldest was nestled all snug in his bed,

While visions of Hoolahan danced in his head.

And Mother retired, I search out a night cap

To just settle my nerves for that long, last nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see bloody Sepp Blatter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw out some cash.

The moon lit up the grass like a floodlit pitch

As Sepp scuttled away, immeasurably rich

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature Scotsman, all fight and no fear.

With a confidence that you could veritably feel,

I knew in a moment it must be Mr Neil.

So fast were the players that they looked to be blurred,

And he whistled, and shouted, and had a wee word!

"Now Redders!, Now Grabbs! Now,

Cameron and Olsson!

On, Whitts! On Jacob!, On, on! Give it to Johnson!!!

From the top of the Champ, to the top of the tops!!

We’ll bash away, bash away, pull out all the stops!”"


Rested, recovered, ready for another

thirty eight fights,

Set to overcome obstacles and to

climb to new heights.

So up to the house-top the players

clambered and leapt

As Alex negotiated the pond,

without sinking he stepped


And then, with a dull thud, I heard

on the roof

A player from Ipswich, I could tell

by the HOOF!

I shook my head and drew the

curtains as you would

When to my surprise, behind me Alex

Neil Stood


He was dressed in the third kit,

from his head to his toe,

“When else will we wear it?” (We

all want to know)

With antiquated tactics in a sack

flung on his back

He said “These are McCarthy’s, no

wonder they’re cack!”



His eyes – how they twinkled,

belying that icy cold stare

Saved for stupid questions, or if a

ref needs a glare

His droll little mouth was drawn up

really tight,

No time for small-talk or any o’that

auld shite


He looked like he could wrestle a

croc with his teeth

But one look at our Alex and the

croc would have no beef

He’d see he’s fierce but fair and

would know not to cross

Norwich City’s latest young

superstar boss


Neil’s not big in stature but his

presence is massive

Alive to everything and in no way

is he passive

With a wink of his eye and a word

in my ear

It was quickly apparent that we’d

nothing to fear


He spoke so well, was meticulous in

his way

He filled me with confidence as we approached

the day

When the training stopped and the

real stuff began

Then with a nod and a wink, out of the

house he ran


Sprang into action and gave the

whole squad a whistle

They assembled quickly, a mass of

skill, graft and gristle

Alex looked back as the players

jogged off in a line

“Happy Football Day, Dunc, we’ll be

just fine.”








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Very good Duncan, knew you were a good writer but didn''t know you were a budding poet too lol

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Would be amazing if before kick off... just before ''On the Ball'' was sung that the stadium went to a early quiet...

... then suddenly a deep voice reads this poem slowly. all the crowd listening and the players in the tunnel...


"The Barclayy, the Jerrold, the N&P and the City stand... lets have it!"


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