John Toshack's poems

"We're coming in to land at Speke"

You Never Know
May 8
The Aftermath
Mervyn Davies
The injury
Return from Spain



You Never Know

We battled hard through five tough rounds,
'Gainst foreign teams with funny sounds.
And then at last, the final game,
Eleven Germans are left to tame.

On Wednesday Shankly names a team,
But for one player a shattered dream.
His season's finished, blown away,
But he is still to have his say.

Rumour says they will attack,
But Netzer's playing at the back.
These Germans they can really play,
It doesn't look the Kopites' day.

Then just by chance it really pours,
Twenty two players are on all fours.
The referee says, 'That's Enough',
Will Liverpool call the German Bluff?

The Final, postponed for a day,
Will Shankly play a different way?
In comes Toshack in place of Hall,
Now will we see the Germans fall?

The Welshman kills them in the air,
Toshack and Keegan, what a pair!!
Liverpool win the game 3-0,
The Germans don't believe it still.

When I look back until this day,
I never really thought I'd play.
But then - suppose - just goes to show,
In the game of football you never know!!!!!



May 8

For 20 years we've waited long,
To sing an English victory song,
Some of those games? Was nothing in it,
In all of them we matched their spirit.
But now at last we've got the skill,
On May the 8th we're going to kill,
That English bogy kill it dead,
If not by feet then by the head!!

The anthem plays the crowd is singing,
'Land of my Father's', I hear it ringing.
I feel a chill go down my spine,
I wonder is this an early sign?

I see Ray Clemence between the sticks,
But even he can't stop our tricks.
We tantalise them from the start,
This Welsh team really looks the part.

As 50,000 voices sing,
Leighton James goes down the wing,
The ball comes over in the air,
Then - wait a second - yes - it's there!!!
England have been buried dead,
A goal has come from Toshack's head!!

It's evening now the crowd has gone,
Poor England!! Can you help them Don?!!
Their players all will feel ashamed,
For 20 years they stayed untamed,
But now we've got them left for dead,
And do you know what Revie said??
He wondered long just who to blame,
Was it really that Centenary game?

For 20 years we've waited long,
To sing an English victory song,
The game is over and yes we've won,
Now it's our turn to have some fun.



The Aftermath

At Ninian Park the stage was set,
Tis 20 years let's not forget,
We'll never have a better chance,
Our reputations to enhance.

When the game got underway,
I felt it really was our day,
For 30 minutes we ran the game,
But the 0-0 scoreline remained the same,
We had them worried, running back,
Nothing was seen of their attack.
Then half-time came and we've nothing to show,
That goal-less scoreline was such a blow!

The second half was a different story,
With England taking all the glory.
Those first-half chances that we spurned,
Were costly now the tide had turned.
When Peter Taylor's left-foot struck,
I knew the Welsh were out of luck.
Our team was full of disarray,
The game had slowly slipped away.

Composure that was all we lacked,
So England's record stayed intact,
That English bogy we just can't kill,
I wonder if we ever will???



Mervyn Davies

Fifteen stone and six foot five,
Full of effort, skill and drive.
In every game he ran and ran,
Mervyn Davies what a man!!

Pick of the Lions, that was Merv,
I've even seen him jink and swerve.
A master of the oval ball,
And still the greatest of them all.

He roamed the field with great command,
Till Wales had gained the upper hand,
A really brilliant number eight,
Who always seemed to dominate.
Yes Merv it was who spread the fear,
In rucks and mauls he had no peer.
Gareth, Gerald, Phil and John,
But 'the one' we all relied upon
Was the man in red, with the giant frame,
He gave his all in every game.

So at this stage we hope and pray,
That once again we'll see him play,
For if he's finished with the games,
Our Rugby team won't be the same.



The injury

November 1974, that was the date,
It really ended up as fate.
I wanted to go if only I could,
'Cos reserve team football was just no good.

Though Liverpool had looked after me,
I went to Leicester for a very big fee.
And at the time I felt real good,
But the Kopites never understood.

Football, a game on which I thrived,
But now it seemed I was being deprived,
Of doing what I loved most of all,
Kicking and heading a leather ball.

I signed for Leicester on the Thursday,
It really seemed the only way
My one desire to fulfil,
The Game of football, I love it still.

Then all of a sudden things go wrong
And I'm right back where I started from.
They say my thigh is out of condition,
That I wouldn't be a good proposition.

What does it mean? Is this the end?
Will this damn thing never mend?
I'll get it right, you wait and see,
No football team will carry me.

For one long week I wonder why,
There are these doubts about my thigh.
Within two weeks I'm in the team,
It seemed like the impossible dream.
But here I am, I'm back to stay,
If you don't believe me, watch me play.

And now I think when I look back,
Things were confused and things were black.
But I won't dwell upon the past,
Medals I want I want them fast.
Who knows! This year I might get two!!
Then that will show that I wasn't through!!!!!



Return from Spain

We're coming in to land at Speke,
My legs are feeling very weak,
We've just returned from Barcelona,
And now I'm going for a sauna.
But the pressmen's questions are all the same,
'Where's your poem for the Derby game???'
I tell them, 'Poems don't grow on trees',
And you ain't forthcoming with any fees!!
You'll have to give me one more day,
They laugh and talk, then walk away.

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