Who's the fat chap they said as he strolled out at Wembley'Who the hell are Hungary?', cold hands are rubbed in glee
The greatest purveyors of the art, England from planet football
Normal service expected as the Magyars entered the assembly hall
They absolutely routed the English, old timers recall
Made to look like the condemned, legless on a pub crawl
They sang the skipper was the fat porker, squat, one foot, no pace
Just as the left cannon exploded, exploiting the airtight space
As the Wembley massacre took effect helped by strict precision and military service
The awesome Billy Wrigh was reduced to an absolute novice
Thus Roly Poly’s Incredibles became the first victorious foreigners at Wembley
As the mighty England were hammered, six goals to three
His girth and ungainly gait led to the tag of ‘Galloping Major’
After this demolition job he was no longer to be a stranger
His death leaves the fondest of memories amidst all the strife
Simply one of the greatest players that I have seen in my life
© Emdad Rahman: 29.11.06
www.footballpoets.org
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