How come all the best athletes Had the poshest kits While the slow, fat, thin, and spotty ones Had shorts that didn't fit? They never lingered in the
Knight to Bishop 4 Next move in the cold war In the Spassky/Fischer battle To see who rules the castle Spassky takes Hungary (and Czecks) Fischer takes
Cut and clipped to make you sleek Whipped and brushed from stall to track Laden down with heavy pack Or carrying rider on your back And finally your neck
That golden era That golden era David Bedford, Georgie Best Olga Korbutt, Eddie Mercx Tony Jacklin, Jochen Rindt Ille Nastase, Rachael Flint Gary Player
There's entertainment There's politics There's popular culture There's dialectics But never the twain shall meet Never the twain shall meet This is a
I saw one legged skiers, agile and graceful In and out the slalom, rushing ever downwards And there weren't any losers I saw marathon runners, strong
Remember Mexico '86? "Dirty" Diego, the Saint and Greaves All covering up the cracks of an economic crisis What the cameras don't show the viewers won
There's pedal bikes and motor bikes And now they're riding mountain bikes Up and down and out of town Over, under, through, around I ride my little bicycle
Matador impaled upon the horns of the beast Tossed and flipped, a sequined rag-doll This frightened, tortured, mutilated animal Has got it's own back
Hey bugger me, now where's mi clogs? Sunday cap and Sunday togs Come along and pare some shins Winner often wins Hey ho! And away we go! Kick your opponent
Here's a good sport, it's easy to play And as good a way as any of throwing your money away Betting offices, men only Tobacco smoke and radio commentaries
The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dogs Aided and abetted by the Local Hunt Sabs
Boys own hero born again Savior of the Empire Come to save our national game Against all odds, and umpire Once a simple cricketer now champion of bravado
Come on admit it, it never crossed the line Geoff Hurst's goal in extra time In the Third World War at Wembley '66 When England won again, to make it
I heard that in the First World War The soldiers called a truce For a Christmas game of football Instead of fighting their pointless war Instead of fighting
At Farnley Park cricket ground there's a Sycamore tree And it stands thirty feet inside the boundary I think that someone slapped a Preservation Order
Outside the ground at Luton Town A crazy opportunist has sprayed upon a wall A simple proclamation for all to read "Revolution is a better game than football
Bees buzzing, birds singing The jack turning off the crown A lawnmower in the distance The wood coming nicely 'round Sitting near the green just chatting