A Tale of Joy and Woe
This latest poem from Barry contains graphic detail and is rated M for mature readers. It contains ‘icky’ things that make people shudder at the thought.
A Tale of Joy and Woe
It was in the Millennium Stadium
In the year Two Thousand and One
And against a team named Brentford
This two-part tale comes from,
Yet it seems like only yesterday
On the banks of the River Taff
Where we lifted high a ‘Trophy
Sponsored by Leyland DAF.
On that special day in April
The ‘Lads from Burslem Town
Led by a man named Horton
Proudly raised the crown,
And our joy was very obvious
For those who cared to see
Because in the land of song
We stung the Brentford Bee.
Stone Valiant’s recollection
Is as clear as a bell
He remembers every moment,
Every second very well,
How we bossed, how we played
And the celebrations too,
Ah, it was grand to be a Valiant
On that April twenty-two.
Then later in the Sentinel
Stone Valiant’s little lad
Is featured in a full page spread
On the shoulders of his dad,
In his Port Vale cap and scarf
This happy little boy
Waved his Port Vale flag
And was filled with pride and joy.
‘Waving the flag for his heroes’
In letters large and bold
Was the caption for the picture,
It was worth its weight in gold,
Then later young Mark Goodlad
In his unassuming style
Autographed a copy
For the wee lad’s memoir file.
***
As mentioned in the title
It’s a tale that’s split in two
With the second part being told
From another point of view
For Stone Valiant’s lovely lady,
The occasional football fan,
Also went to Cardiff
In the land of the Calon Lân*.
Poor weather and ill health
Had conspired to make her day
Conducive to a rest in bed
Than travelling all that way
To watch a game of football,
But had she guessed or known
Of the events that laid ahead
She would have surely stayed at home.
They sat down in their seats
In conditions slightly damp,
And her humour was improving
So, small mercies they did thank,
And whilst the players on the park
Were preparing for the game
A drama in the row behind
Would reach inglorious fame.
With the sounds of a groan and moan
They turned their heads to find
A man and woman giving help
To one drunk out of mind,
Another woman, so it seems,
Was helped into her seat
Because there was no way at all
She could stand on her own two feet.
A minute’s silence was announced
And the crowd began to stand
To share a sombre moment
With others throughout the land,
But the inebriated woman
Her senses quite confused
Reacted in a different way
And ‘We were not amused’.
Stone Valiant’s tale is graphic
And the worst is yet to come
That marred a day of happiness
The day that Port Vale won,
It’s everybody’s nightmare
And is depicted to a tee,
He hopes it’ll never happen again
Even to folks like you and me.
The woman was still sitting
When she lurched and belched out loud
And emptied all the contents
Of her stomach on the crowd,
But Stone Valiant’s lovely lady
Who was standing right in front
Was the one who was unfortunate
To take the major brunt.
The foul and sickly cocktail
Was on her clothes and seat
And scattered on the floor
Around her very feet,
For Stone Valiant’s lovely lady
‘Twas not a happy lot
Whilst the culprit now relieved
Promptly passed out on the spot.
The other seats were taken
Plus patrons could not stand
And whilst the stewards sympathised
They could not lend a hand
Which meant Stone Valiant’s lady
Was forced to bide her time
Amongst that vile concoction
Of a sulky curry and wine.
Stone Valiant’s lovely lady
Went further in distress
As her senses were insulted
By that repulsive acrid mess,
And her demeanour is recorded
For all the world to see
On a celebration video
Courtesy of Sky TV.
The game was done and dusted
When the referee called time,
And for the woman in a stupor
The judgement was sublime,
For in her drunken state
She had missed the entire game
And Stone Valiant’s lovely lady
Hopes they never meet again.
*Calon Lân roughly translated
means ‘pure and happy heart’
Barry Edge
Western Australia
November 20, 2002
🙂