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Poetry
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| A Heavenly Trio | |
| By Talisker | ||||||||||
| 13 September 2006 | ||||||||||
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Just a bit of fun ahead of tonight's big game. Imagine a moment the heavenly scene, The spirits of Busby, Shankly and Stein, Settling down near the edge of a cloud, Feeling the heat rising up from the crowd, Old Trafford packed to the rafters below, The sky all lit up by the floodlights aglow, The “Battle of Britain” about to commence, Each spirit has promised to sit on the fence. Stein takes from his pocket the tiniest tin, And gathers a pinch of the gold dust within, While the players assemble before the South stand, A heavenly shower on Celtic heads lands, Thus blessing each player with fortune divine, As they stand to attention before the white line, The champions league hymn blares out from below, And twenty-two players are raring to go. ‘ “Now John”, pipes up Shankly, “You know that’s not fair, Luck must be even, Each team needs a share”. Stein gently smiling, hands over the tin, Busby and Shankly examine within, “But its empty of luck John, You’ve given it all !” “Its certain the home team will not kick a ball” “This is a rare to do!” says Sir Matt, And produces two straws from the brim of his hat. “Whenever the ball is within Celtic’s half, We’ll blow down these straws with a heavenly draught” The ball will be forced Towards Celtic’s goal, And that should make even, The luck on the whole !” The three then embrace in a brotherly huddle, As below the two captains arrive in the middle, In the dug outs Sir Alex and Strachan feel love, Being beamed like the rays of the floodlights above, And each feels the need to peer into the night, Just as three shooting stars bless the sky with their light, And both feel emboldened by those gone before, A heavenly trio of football folklore. Oli.
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