Sunday, 31 July 2016

Wembley Way '66

Ah, this old London town.
The music,
The clubs
The girls!
We have 'em back 'ome
They won't change my life.
This just bloody might...

Peak out a window
Wembley way:
"Staindud speciaw!"
Paper boy shouts.
'Pon the grass a boy of 9
Picks a pack
Of Players no 6.
Does the shake then
Arms out spitfire style,
Circles his cohorts,
Shouting "England!"
In his shorts.

Step outside,
This place, Christ!
More popular than Jesus!
As fan-sized ants,
March the street,
To their queen's

Wembley's towers:
Like 2 Pop-art legs wi'
Union Jack suspenders,
Straddle this
Royal factory that
Packs hopes and dreams,
Gives 'em the Queen's stamp,
Stuffs 'em in a Mini Van,
And sends 'em off
'Round the world.
Even in North Korea,
Everyone knows
Who WE are.

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