Like Lionel but more messy

Winning FC 4 – 9 FC Beercelona

I never saw a team whose name
Was perfectly ironic,
Until our fixture against “Winning”;
Such hubris so laconic!
Pummelled by the Beerca like
Japan by Earth’s tectonics
 
Our name and game took pilgrimage
To Essex from Catalonia,
Young men flee scared
From raging beasts
In Dagenham not Pamplona.
More than just a football club,
The famous Beercelona
 
Whistle blows and deadlock goes,
Arrears treble in a frenzy,
Adcock broke his Beerca duck,
And with it broke the levee:
Half time we stroll in 5-0 up
Like Lionel but more messy.
 
To play alongside Robbie Black,
Is something of an honour,
But if we sign Brandy Carroll,
or Dijager Marabomba,
Bacardi Sagna or Yakubooze,
Then Robbie is a goner.
 
I wished that I could trade my team,
For punbelievable ringers,
When Joe’s deft backpass was too weak,
And latched on by their winger,
Who tucked the ball past impregnable,
Ross’s eight Fish Fingers.
 
Murphy’s face was full of fear,
Our lead began to lighten,
But maybe he was thinking of
Beloved south London Lions,
And their upcoming fixtures v
The mighty East End irons.
 
He needn’t fear, full time drew near,
We’d scored 9 and they were hopeless:
Their goalkeeper wore spectacles,
Myopia- what a bonus!
“I’ve astigmatism since I was 5;
That’s why they’re slightly bulbous”
 
Nine goals to four, the final score,
Just like watching Brazil!
As Sven would say, “First half was good,
The second went downhill.”
The whistle blew, I heard Rob swoon,
“Thank God we’ve got Sam Steel.”

 

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