Stop all the clocks, cut off the Net
Don’t bother collecting your Ladbroke’s bet
Silence the vuvuzelas; their din is done
Bring on the aftermath, let the investigators come.
Let newspaper headlines in their outrage shout
The incredulous message that England are out
Pull the nylon flags from windows and cars
Let normality return to pubs and bars.
They were our North, our South, our East, our West,
Our working lives and our Sunday best,
Our hopes, our dreams, our pride and our song
We thought that love would last for ever; we were wrong
Those overpaid stars are not wanted now; shoo them away;
Pack up the red kit and dismantle the FA
Bring on goal line technology, sweep in the new
But England, England, we still love you.
© Helena Pielichaty 2010 (not that anyone would want to copy it!)
With abject apologies to W H Auden for ripping off ‘Stop All the Clocks’
Written in the ten minutes I had spare before I pack for Edinburgh (my son’s graduation tomorrow).
WOW! I love the poem. I would want to copy it, but I would never do that because it is wrong!
The original’s much better but it provided a good model for my lament!
Ah well, my collected internet works are never the originals as my Mum always edits them a bit too much for my liking!
Mums, eh?