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I’ve Got One In (A tribute to Albert a Fulham fan)

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‘Mine’s a light and bitter’, Albert would say.
‘I’ve got one in,’ before the fray.
I’m here in my corner, reading my paper,
Checking that life’s still in order.
Ready to talk to my many friends,
Never thought it would come to an end.
‘I’m from Battersea Dogs Home’ Albert would say.
My manor was Fulham, every day.
On my “bi-cycle”, the black and whites way.
Came to Aston Clinton, with only a few quid.
Married my wife Pauline, I am so glad I did.
As ‘Peter the Painter’ I plied my trade,
And soon became known, far and wide.
So many memories I had to share,
So many stories plucked from the air.
Never boring with Albert our mate,
Always had the time to talk, till late.
I didn’t think I would be leaving quite so soon,
Thought I had time for another tune.
But that’s life, never goes as you plan.
So I hope when I get to heaven,
‘I’ve got one in’!
Thank you for being my friend
Thank you for being with me to the end.

By Simon Icke Aston Clinton, Bucks. UK copyright 2008

I am what I am, just an ordinary fan.

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I am not your modern day footballer
who collects his wages in a hay loader
from the Premier League pay loader;
aided by Sky TV and now BT money bag dream makers;
so happy to pay ‘the fakers and the takers’ on and off the field.
and so happy to take hard earned brass from the working class.

I’m just an ordinary fan;
“I am what I am”.
What happened to the working man’s game?
hijacked by those who just seek money and fame,
which just isn’t funny;
to those who follow the game,
it’s a crying shame,
to forget your roots like that!

No I’m no trend setter,
no go getter,
no position seeker,
no power climber.
no football cheater
no racist banter
no foul mouthed ranter
no ‘prima donna’.

I’m no crowd pleaser just a word teaser,
no people pleaser, who’s trying to fool ya.
Just a football fan, that’s who I am.
Perhaps a word rhymer,
a letter writer,
a campaign fighter,
maybe a ‘fire starter’,
or a motivator.

The power is in the written word; mightier than all the chairmen of the board.
No streets here paved with football gold;
paid for by the fans, I’m told;
even the poor families and their grandads and grans.

No money to line my pockets,
no gimmicks,
no greedy agents
with slimy tricks,
no hangers on,
no football politics;
just an ordinary fan.
So please don’t exploit me!

by Simon Icke, copyright 2013  UK.  Author of Touchline Shouting, The Sound of Children’s Feet, Young versus Old in Irwell Road and other Football poems: See http://www.footballpoets.org

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