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Heart of Midlothian poetry thread


waynefozzie

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I was out in my adopted home town the other night, and we ran into a couple of guys calling themselves 'Poets for Hire.' They had old school typewriters and they were inviting passing drunkards to suggest a title for a poem they'd type on the spot. The lassie I was out with encouraged me to have a go, and not having any better idea, I gave them the title 'Heart of Midlothian Football Club.' Here's the poem they wrote for me :

 

The air grasps you like a stick,

rigid and braced against the corner

of a yard, where the cries of horror

echo and clatter like the height of

Industrial revolution. 

Cheer, you ********, cheer like you never thought it would happen.

 

I kind of like a poem to rhyme, but nevertheless I was pretty chuffed with what they wrote me.

 

But how many kickbackers are poets that don't yet know it? This thread is for your Hearts-related poetry. The best poem posted wins a fondue set.

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AlphonseCapone

In the capital city they play,

Where a maroon army will say,

Heart of Midlothian, **** off Hibernian,

We'll support you ever more,

Though the future is a mystery,

With such an illustrious history,

We can allow ourselves to dream,

That one day Heart of Midlothian will be Scotland's number one team

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scott herbertson

My aunt used to write the poems which appeared sometimes in. The Hearts programmes in the late 40s and early 50s ( her hero was the goalie Jimmy Brown).

 

Her scrapbook is at the museum now but it’s also on London Hearts website - this page has one of her poems for the programmes : http://www.londonhearts.com/images/scotthout/pages/page036.htm

 

note that she was guest of the Directors that day. 60years later when my brother Craig played Hearts of Glory on the pitch Margaret was one of the guests of the Directors again...she also came out on the street in Saughton like thousands and thousands of others to see us bring the cup back in 98.

Edited by scott herbertson
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6 hours ago, waynefozzie said:

I was out in my adopted home town the other night, and we ran into a couple of guys calling themselves 'Poets for Hire.' They had old school typewriters and they were inviting passing drunkards to suggest a title for a poem they'd type on the spot. The lassie I was out with encouraged me to have a go, and not having any better idea, I gave them the title 'Heart of Midlothian Football Club.' Here's the poem they wrote for me :

 

The air grasps you like a stick,

rigid and braced against the corner

of a yard, where the cries of horror

echo and clatter like the height of

Industrial revolution. 

Cheer, you ********, cheer like you never thought it would happen.

 

I kind of like a poem to rhyme, but nevertheless I was pretty chuffed with what they wrote me.

 

But how many kickbackers are poets that don't yet know it? This thread is for your Hearts-related poetry. The best poem posted wins a fondue set.

Could you post the one they wrote about Heart of Midlothian Football Club?

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All around a wall of maroon and white filled his eyes,

A cacophony of sound punishing his ears so loud his head hurt and his heart pumped restless.

A spectacle so great the emotions inside spilled out of every pore and into the people around him he cried,

Growing out of control the mass of people swayed, swirled and danced enchanted by enhanced senses.

Fed from within a self perpetuating ocean mesmerised by all that they see. 

 

5-1 FTH!!

 

 

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This has the capacity for cringiest thread ever.  Here's some cringe:

 

There was a young man form Trutnov

who became a bit of a god

With a left peg like a gun

He scored twice in five-one

And the broken green rats scurried off

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Some fine verses being penned here, but this is my favourite so far:

 

31 minutes ago, zoltan socrates said:

Are we now just opening ourselves up for a ripping by choice

 

puffs thread, get a grip ffs

 

Beautiful. Has a touch of Bukowski about it.

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2 hours ago, scott herbertson said:

My aunt used to write the poems which appeared sometimes in. The Hearts programmes in the late 40s and early 50s ( her hero was the goalie Jimmy Brown).

 

Her scrapbook is at the museum now but it’s also on London Hearts website - this page has one of her poems for the programmes : http://www.londonhearts.com/images/scotthout/pages/page036.htm

 

note that she was guest of the Directors that day. 60years later when my brother Craig played Hearts of Glory on the pitch Margaret was one of the guests of the Directors again...she also came out on the street in Saughton like thousands and thousands of others to see us bring the cup back in 98.

Great story - cheers Scott. 

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50 minutes ago, zoltan socrates said:

Are we now just opening ourselves up for a ripping by choice

 

puffs thread, get a grip ffs

I take it you won't be joining in when we kick off the interpretative dance thread?

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When I was wee

my dad took me

To see Hearts at Tynecastle

 

We beat the Hibs

We always did

They weren't much of a hassle

 

I saw some team

Saw Sandy Clark

Wee John Colquhoun and Jardine

 

But most of all 

John Robertson

(I played him in the garden)

 

The next time that

My old man asked

I couldn't be much keener

 

To go along

And join the throng 

The pride of old Edina

 

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4 minutes ago, ManMoth said:

When I was wee

my dad took me

To see Hearts at Tynecastle

 

We beat the Hibs

We always did

They weren't much of a hassle

 

I saw some team

Saw Sandy Clark

Wee John Colquhoun and Jardine

 

But most of all 

John Robertson

(I played him in the garden)

 

The next time that

My old man asked

I couldn't be much keener

 

To go along

And join the throng 

The pride of old Edina

 

:terrific::thumb:

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7 minutes ago, cookieboy said:

:terrific::thumb:

Cheers bud, although I have to say I used to think that men having sex with each other was the gayest thing possible until I read about guerilla poets with typewriters!

 

Hey Zoltan, we can call it rap if it's less of a threat to your masculinity ;)

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1 hour ago, zoltan socrates said:

Are we now just opening ourselves up for a ripping by choice

 

puffs thread, get a grip ffs

"Puffs thread"????

Wow, just wow.

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As I walk along the Gorgie Road.

I see the bustle of the expectant crowd.

Most have come to see the men in Maroon

Wishing them to score at least three.

 

I climb the stairs of the Wheatfield stand

The excitement slowly creeping up on me

The glare of the floodlights beam across the arena

The protagonists enter and the noise reaches a crescendo

 

A blow from the referee's whistle and battle begins

Souttar to Walker and forward Hearts go

The crowd get expectant at the Hearts attack

Walker to Lafferty to Isma and back

 

Twenty yards out and Walker takes aim

His right foot connects with the white Sphere

It flies like an arrow straight and true

The ball hits the net in the postage stamps corner

 

There are scenes of delirium all around me

The noise starts at the back of my throat

It travels to the front and exits a roar

Once again the boys in Maroon are to the forest

 

The final whistle blows and the cheer is immense

Hearts have prevailed and anything else no longer matters

The cheering subsides and we begin to leave with smiles a mile wide

Tynecastle midweek under the lights nowhere in world football can excite.

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Old Pivotonian

My first ever Clerihew. So here goes:

 

Ian Cathro

Clearly had to go

His performance so lukewarm

His P45 was passed to him in note form.

 

I'll get my coat, etc.

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"Up on the terracing at the Gorgie end

You were my pal you were my friend

We stood together in good times and bad

You made me a Hearts fan, I thank you Dad"

 

 

(On my dear old Dad's plaque in the Memorial garden)

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Coburg Hearts
5 hours ago, scott herbertson said:

My aunt used to write the poems which appeared sometimes in. The Hearts programmes in the late 40s and early 50s ( her hero was the goalie Jimmy Brown).

 

Her scrapbook is at the museum now but it’s also on London Hearts website - this page has one of her poems for the programmes : http://www.londonhearts.com/images/scotthout/pages/page036.htm

 

note that she was guest of the Directors that day. 60years later when my brother Craig played Hearts of Glory on the pitch Margaret was one of the guests of the Directors again...she also came out on the street in Saughton like thousands and thousands of others to see us bring the cup back in 98.

Enjoyed the poem by your Aunt. ps Jimmy Brown was Hearts goalie when I first started going to games. If memory correct (it's not always haha) he always wore a cap.

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We've said it by tongue and we've written it in pen,

uttered it on the telephone again and again

We've said it as boys that turned into men

You spawny green b@stards, it should have been ten..

 

We've texted this message and emailed it too

We've written with quills that have nibs

We own you, you're ours and we say loud and proud

Quite simply, to you :fth:

 

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zoltan socrates
3 hours ago, Haken said:

I take it you won't be joining in when we kick off the interpretative dance thread?

Ill sve myself for the kickback flower press'athon'

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48 minutes ago, Mr Sifter said:

Hearts are brilliant, 

His are shite, 

If you think Im wrong,

Yer wrong, am right.

 

 

 

That's the winner there

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6 hours ago, waynefozzie said:

Some fine verses being penned here, but this is my favourite so far:

 

 

Beautiful. Has a touch of Bukowski about it.

I was just reading some Bukowski

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J Cheever Loophole

Early one morning

Bright and born

A hibby sat, 'pon my window sill

It filled my heart with joy

It filled my heart with glee

As I quickly slammed the window shut

and crushed it's ****in' Heidi!

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7 hours ago, Thomaso said:

"Up on the terracing at the Gorgie end

You were my pal you were my friend

We stood together in good times and bad

You made me a Hearts fan, I thank you Dad"

 

 

(On my dear old Dad's plaque in the Memorial garden)

 

WINNER, wheres the fondue?

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17 minutes ago, Normthebarman said:

Didn't someone post Doug's ramblings on here to a poetry forum once? 

I hope so.

 

I hope someone can find the post.

 

 

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Cory McNamara

Yo, yo, my name is Jamie Walka
I'm searching for a new worka
I need a bigger pie
I don't like this slice
With bigger pound it would be nice
My shining skills will be improved
With hun support no doubt in that
My childhood I will not forget
My instability is part of your imagination
Has something to do with your immaturity
I don't care much about your soul's fragility
I've lost my track because of you
Yellow newspapers will catch this too
With such a brutal force I will attack
Like you did with my family
This criticism is killing me
I can't believe the things I've been told
Though this is not the cause, y'all know?
It's a part of my job I don't control
I'm not a Contra
I have no spread
I can't score goals
In every game
Some silly tactics you have to blame
Like lunatics they say the same old things
These so-called fans attacking me
My heart is in Glasgow, seems your is here
Along with my dream I'll be free
We put to rest some things like hate
We'll bury that for you and me
No grimy shadows behind our backs
Just shiny diamonds in Glasgow at night
I have to move
No matter what
Forgive and bye
I will not rot

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  • 2 weeks later...
Cory McNamara

Ama superpower
Ama skullcrusher
Ama not a newcomer
Ama dream smasher


With my white power and black mag-ic
Heart of Midlothian will always win
Ama Hearts boy and a serial winner
Glasgow boys are lying here for mah dinner


So, you say, what?
I can't grab a point at Dundee?
You must be a Pittodrie son
Without any talent one


I am a world center
Explosion epicenter
Can't live without a 1:0 win
Can't die without a draw
A tasty blood of my foes
Is what I adore


So, you say, what?
Silly draws?
Shut your mouth and sheate your pants
Freaking hobo son
Not a Midlothian one
I'll make you pay
In the end you shall obey


I am biting like a cobra
Opponents absorber
Sharp as a knife
With my teeth I'll cut like a chainsaw


So, you say, what?
Poor defence? Attack?
I'll cut your head off and empty my ass
Right down your neck
With no remorse
Can't take a break


Ama master
Ama improvizer
Ama not a silly one
Ama organizer

 

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You'll all love this one.  I've taken it straight from partyplanners.

 

Here we go

 

8 in a row.

 

We really do have to smash these clowns to pulp on Tuesday night.

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Riddley Walker
On 14/10/2017 at 01:02, Cory McNamara said:

Yo, yo, my name is Jamie Walka
I'm searching for a new worka
I need a bigger pie
I don't like this slice
With bigger pound it would be nice
My shining skills will be improved
With hun support no doubt in that
My childhood I will not forget
My instability is part of your imagination
Has something to do with your immaturity
I don't care much about your soul's fragility
I've lost my track because of you
Yellow newspapers will catch this too
With such a brutal force I will attack
Like you did with my family
This criticism is killing me
I can't believe the things I've been told
Though this is not the cause, y'all know?
It's a part of my job I don't control
I'm not a Contra
I have no spread
I can't score goals
In every game
Some silly tactics you have to blame
Like lunatics they say the same old things
These so-called fans attacking me
My heart is in Glasgow, seems your is here
Along with my dream I'll be free
We put to rest some things like hate
We'll bury that for you and me
No grimy shadows behind our backs
Just shiny diamonds in Glasgow at night
I have to move
No matter what
Forgive and bye
I will not rot

 

4 hours ago, Cory McNamara said:

Ama superpower
Ama skullcrusher
Ama not a newcomer
Ama dream smasher


With my white power and black mag-ic
Heart of Midlothian will always win
Ama Hearts boy and a serial winner
Glasgow boys are lying here for mah dinner


So, you say, what?
I can't grab a point at Dundee?
You must be a Pittodrie son
Without any talent one


I am a world center
Explosion epicenter
Can't live without a 1:0 win
Can't die without a draw
A tasty blood of my foes
Is what I adore


So, you say, what?
Silly draws?
Shut your mouth and sheate your pants
Freaking hobo son
Not a Midlothian one
I'll make you pay
In the end you shall obey


I am biting like a cobra
Opponents absorber
Sharp as a knife
With my teeth I'll cut like a chainsaw


So, you say, what?
Poor defence? Attack?
I'll cut your head off and empty my ass
Right down your neck
With no remorse
Can't take a break


Ama master
Ama improvizer
Ama not a silly one
Ama organizer

 

 

:rofl:

 

Incredible.

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'That isn't a blizzard, but the Heart of Midlothian support waiting for the start of the second half...'

 

One of the romantic poets I think, either John Keats or Archie McPherson 

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Come pack up your footballs and scarves of maroon,

Leave all your sweethearts in Auld Reekie toon,

Fall in wi' the lads for they're off and away,

To take on the bold Hun with old Geordie McCrae!

 

 

 

From the memorial at Contalmaison.

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I P Knightley
On 10/13/2017 at 20:07, Normthebarman said:

Didn't someone post Doug's ramblings on here to a poetry forum once? 

"Tae a Mup" - sadly, I only remember the title and the fact that 'Dougstar' was welcomed to the forum with open arms. 

 

On 10/13/2017 at 21:09, Ulysses said:

I'd offer a haiku, but as John Cooper Clarke once said:

 

“To convey one’s mood
in seventeen syllables
is very diffic”

First, five syllables

Then add seven more to that

Add five for Haiku

 

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Cory McNamara

Retardee from Pittodrie

 

I am Red
I am Round
I live in the past
'Till the day
My body will hit the ground


Heart of Midlothian fans?
They are morons
And don't deserve to eat jam tarts
It's 1986
Cup final will make them go nuts


C.C. Catch is on my TV
She shouts: "'Cause you are young"
At me
Someone is knocking at my door
It is Jamtard
You have come for more?
"It's 2017, returd. The only thing you will win is the Scottish League Cup"
I don't bah-lieve you
Go away, it's nineteen eighty all the way


Hibernian?
It's just a joke
Some wannabies and hibies
Cup dreamers and believers
Can't touch a sacred thing
'Cause maybe they are sinners?


Yes, it sounds raw
We are not like them
It's nineteen eighty four
And we are doing fine
3 Scottish Cups in a row
With fools like huns and bheasts
Behind us


We don't need a silly draws
Just ask imbeciles from Madrid and Hamburg
Euro glory surrounds us all
We fight only for wins and titles


It's 1985
Another trophy, another pride
I'm thinking about this Jamtard
What if he were right?
What if he is not?
How many titles Aberdeen will win?
What the future holds for my team?
How many shiny days are mine?
It's nineteen eighty nine


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0sp-2dF3ME

 

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And here it is

its derby day

a chance to tell them 

the hibs are gay

 

and as they go for a reach around 

the jambos party in that shitty ground

And on that note when all is said the Hearts are having a party the hibs are in their beds. 

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  • 2 weeks later...
Cory McNamara

Green Light

 

I'm not a racist
I don't mind LGBT
Though in their rainbow
Green stands for Hibernian
And blue - for loyal Gers

 

Oh, sheeps, oh, Aberdeen FC
Or maybe ships?
They like the Bismarck -
Shiny, solid, strong
But then
You blink
They sink
Though, there is no any fun
When pack of 4 or 6 is hunting One

 

The world we are living in is a mess
With Celtic infestation
Hibernian reincarnation
How can we play?
How can we win?
When only 4 or 5 will have some intention
To do some progression

 

There are strange noises in the dark
Everything is fine
Rangers fans are dismantling another toilet
At Celtic Park
And after that they are so angry
When some people call them huns
And what's the cooliest thing about green ones?
You will never meet some
At toilet brexit

 

Celtic fans are sometimes strange too
"Snipers at work are here for you"
Can't see a funny thing
When your knee takes 7.62

 

Hey, Belhunst
Bhelfast?
Yes, I'm talking with you
You think these high walls
Are good for you?
Better take them down or
The last bell will ring for you
It's like a football -
You hit and miss
While opponent scores two

 

Some Midlothians say that
Hearts fans suck
Well, you can come up with this abomination
When your only food is a pack of antidepressants

 

Jesus Christ,
We have to bear this too
Catholics?
Protestants?
During a football matches?
It's like another dimension
Like a game
With the score tied 1:1
Better show two to islamization

 

English soldier hits the ground
Blood is spilling from his mouth
Family separation
Strong minds unification
His last tear and dust unite
At the end of life's tunnel
I can see a green light

 

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At a fine day in May time 

they came out in their droves 

decked up in green regalia 

and toilet paper up their nose 

 

heading for hampden

they screamed and would shout 

oh vermin, oh vermin

make this a good day out 

 

they took to the park like

expectant as one

but here come the jambos 

their Having some fun 

 

it came in from the corner 

and banged around in the box 

but up popped wee Darren 

and ghosted in like a fox

 

four more in succession

hearts blew them apart 

rats crawled out the stadium 

after being mesmorised by hearts 

 

five one and counting 

the hibbies were done

but the hearts fans were shouting

were the big team ya scum 

 

and no matter what happens 

even if the hibs feel no shame 

that fairytale ending 

will never be repeated again 

 

FTH always and 4 ever 

 

(I'll no give up the day job for a poet that's for sure) 

 

 

 

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The days of Tom Purdie to the Scottish Cup,

We have had some lows but we'll aye come back up,
Plenty memorable moments have been,
Watching Rudi, Cruickshank and Sandy Jardine,
 
De Vries shot rippling the net in Bordeaux,
Heart's passion and pride has always shown,
Petric pegging the Germans back at Tynecastle,
Heroes present and past like Barney Battles.
 
Cheering on Paul Hartley's third in the Semi,
Clappin' breathtaking saves by Antti Niemi,
A mazy run from Temps, a belter from Miko,
A curler from range fi Juanjo Carricondo,
 
Our roots set in stone on the royal mile,
To recent late winners from Kevin Kyle,
Our rich history and honours can be seen,
Enough to make envious neighbours turn green.
 
So when I am done or my time comes too soon,
You can let it be known I will always bleed Maroon.

 

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Little boy Moffat

Sat on a tuffet 

Eating a caramel wafer

He wrote to the liths, created some myths

And now he’s laughed off as a slaver

Edited by Gashauskis9
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