The summer is over, a new season starting,
Hope is diminished, through Madders departing.
A rebuild, a project, a club in transition,
Signs of improvement, the only ambition.Early defeats, against West Brom and Leeds,
Dissenting voices, on the Twitter feeds.
And radio phone-ins, a place for the moaners,
To point their fingers at Farke and owners.Then to the derby; the same old story,
Moritz scores late to deny ‘them’ their glory.
A debut for Max, the fledgling right-back,
Whose blistering pace, turns defence to attack.Farke persists, staying true to his urges,
Through hard work and graft, a pattern emerges.
A quick passing game, that opens up holes,
The freebie from Finland, can’t stop scoring goals.Assisted and aided, time and again,
By Marco the German, a left back, turned ‘ten’.
By Onel the Cuban, running down wings,
By Emi Buendia, pulling the strings.Zimbo and Godfrey, providing resistance,
Tommy and Kenny, the sweat and persistence.
Jordan, supporting, from Wednesday on loan,
A young lad from Dereham, who’s one of our own.Led by a man with grace and good manners,
The Barclay responds with flags, scarves and banners.
Building to kick-off, in joint apprehension,
Songs belted out, to relieve any tension.City strike late, in added-on time,
The stadium erupts, the feeling sublime.
Supporters reluctant, to head on their way,
Until Daniel delivers… Olé, Olé, Olé.A team and its fans, with a genuine bond,
Leeds are dispatched, through Mario’s wand.
Next up is Lambert, from the Hall of Fame,
He suffers defeat, a red card and shame.Angry and bitter, when Derby Day’s done,
Steering the Blues, to a home in League One.
The gap is a chasm, we all raise a drink,
To Farke the hero, and his parting wink.Hope turns to belief, that we’ll see out the course,
We sing of our Head Coach, riding a horse.
Of Teemu and Timmy, and footballing heaven,
Onel at Boro, takes the streak up to seven.The league throws up fixtures, at a breathless pace,
No quarter given, in the three-horse race.
The chase for promotion, swings back and forth,
Nervously waiting, for scores from up North.But as two others falter, City stay strong,
Allowing the faithful to deliver the song;
‘We’re Premier League”, “going up, up, up’,
Yellow ribbons are tied to the cup.Gathered as one, by the City Hall,
To salute the heroes, who have given their all.
And the singing, the laughter, the joyous tears,
Stem from the memories; the most special of years.One more line, both heartfelt and frank,
To all who delivered, I say ‘Vielen Dank’
A new article’s on here I must take a look.
It can only be written by one Stevo Cook.
Quite how he did it I really don’t know,
But Oh boy how those stanzas did flow.
A tribute in verse to our greatest of sides
With two fingers up to Leeds and their snides.
Praise to that cool guy who’s Daniel Farke
And no mention at all of that dodgy Parka.
We’re on the up of that there’s no doubt
And it gets right up the 1p5wich’s snout.
At season’s end I’m just so full of glee
Because we are not playing in division three.
So come on my friends, brothers and folks
We won’t be the butt of Premier League jokes.
Emi will stroll it and so will our Max
I am not dreaming those are just facts.
MINE took just three minutes Steve – but yours is iconic!!!
With blistering rhythm and near perfect rhyme,
You’ve summed up our season with words sublime.
With more ups than downs along the way,
It turned out alright at the end of the day!
That’s my four penn’orth on the subject. LOL
A well crafted piece of poetry Steve, very well done!
Everyone says in this day and age
That literacy ain’t no longer the rage.
But Steve has just shown it can be homegrown –
And it’s been a bl00dy good page!
Thanks Dave. Built on ‘years of experience’ crafting crude limericks!
Bloody Norah we’ve gone all Pam Ayres!
No Colin we’re not Oxford United!
Come on you yellows…
That our Steve can rhyme came as no surprise,
He’s smart, clever and one of those guys,
Then Martin wades in with one of his own,
And for the Ed a seed is sown.
Maybe prose is a thing of the past,
And MFW’s future needs to contrast,
So get ready team, this is the new way,
A 900-word stanza, and then you can stay.
Crap innit
900 words in rhyme but not prose
Cannot be done it’s just one of those.
But while we all will follow the City
1p5wich Town will always be $hitty.
I’m no poet any more… I’m no poet any more.
Well, it’s not Bard
Edited version –
At the end of last season, some fans wanted to boo,
So gave up their ST, as it was their option to,
In this season, our GF total is 93,
And so now there are no STs free.
What next season holds, goodness only knows,
But I’m sure each game will be of full to’s and fro’s,
Let’s hope our youngsters have listened TK,
And will play in Yellow and Green as they enter the fray
Sorry not able to compete
with the rest (of you)
But know the team I support is the best ??