The Night The League Was Won

The night the league was won, the Chelsea gathered in their blue.
At West Brom, where we hoped our boys knew what they had to do.
The Tottenham had been saying that they were coming for us soon.
We waited but they never did. Oh Tottenham, change your tune!
We Chelsea sang our hearts out and we urged our players on.
A Pullis team is stubborn but we roared our love in song.
And Michy stepped up to the task to bring us all such joy.
He’s not had many chances, but he is a lovely boy!
The night the league was won we were ecstatic and elated.
It felt so sweet, and most of us had not anticipated
The changes that Antonio would bring that club of ours.
Last season we had thunderstorms. This year, just hearts and flowers.
And sunshine, sunshine, all the way, from a man with such a passion.
He celebrates each goal as if they’re going out of fashion!
He’s charming and he’s dignified, endearing and a gent.
He’s taught his squad his methods and they’ve warmed to his intent.
The night the league was won, we laughed as Luiz danced and smiled.
He’s proved his critics wrong and driven all his geezers wild.
We watched as Victor Moses went from loan king to a star.
We watched as Kante bossed midfield by running near and far.
The night the league was won, we all remembered loved ones gone.
But they were with us still, we knew, to urge our blue boys on.
To win the title on the road, and on a Friday night,
It is a strange experience. To some, it’s not quite right.
And yet, we had to get it done, so we can celebrate
Back at the Bridge, our home sweet home.
The feeling’s simply great.
The night the league was won, we felt an era new was dawning.
Each day is blue and when we wake, each morn’s a Chelsea morning.
Let’s hail the great Antonio and seasons in the sun.
For we were WORTHY champions,
The night the league was won.

© Carol Ann Wood
May 2017


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A die-hard Chelsea Woman

A die-hard Chelsea woman doesn’t follow many teams.
She has our crest inside her head, one club is in her dreams.
A die-hard Chelsea woman doesn’t re-apply her gloss
When there is action on the pitch, and when the weather’s dross.
A die-hard Chelsea woman doesn’t care for camera’s gaze.
What matters is the team’s result, each game that Chelsea plays.
A die-hard Chelsea woman laughs when rain destroys her hair.
She doesn’t mind if she looks nuts, what matters is she’s there.
A die-hard Chelsea woman is the one who’ll never leave,
She just has Chelsea in her heart, her passion on her sleeve.
What matters are the friendships and the laughter down the years,
The wins, the comebacks and the joy, the heartache and the tears.
A die-hard Chelsea woman knows the offside rule and more.
She simply can’t be patronised, this woman knows the score.
A die-hard Chelsea woman may be tall, or may be short.
She may be large, she may be small, but die-hards can’t be bought.
A die-hard Chelsea woman won’t be judged by how she looks.
She’s not an It girl wannabe in magazines or books.
She’s smart, she’s clever, and she’s lived
Through many, many things.
She’s real, not plastic, just herself, she swears, she shouts, she sings.
A die-hard Chelsea woman comes from near or from afar.
What matters not is distance, but instead, how loyal you are.
She doesn’t need to preen or pout, she’s comfy in her skin.
It’s how she loves the Blues that counts, not what she’s covered in.
If you’re a die-hard Chelsea girl, young, old or in-between,
Be proud and loud when in that crowd.
Be vocal and be seen.
For glam may sell a TV show, but glam is quickly gone.
It’s us who are the backbone that the club relies upon.
It’s us the Chelsea die-hard girls who, when the going gets tough
Will stick around through stormy skies and still can’t get enough.
A die-hard Chelsea woman suffers fools not well nor gladly.
So cross her at your peril or you’ll find it could end badly.
Good Chelsea men all know our worth, beyond our arse and tits.
For plastic’s only temporary, but we’ve got proper bits.
We’re die-hard Chelsea women and we’re worth as much as you.
We love our this club, we’re here to stay,
We’re Chelsea through and through.

© Carol Ann Wood

March 2017

The Geezer That’s David Luiz

His smile and his passion, we’d missed him so much,
His curly hair flying in the breeze.
And now he is back in defence and attack,
The Geezer that’s David Luiz.
I had a new banner to show him I care,
I held it aloft at the game.
I wanted to tell him how much he’s adored,
As well as just singing his name.
He turned and he waved in the warm-up and so
It made me quite weak at the knees.
As now he is back, in defence and attack,
The Geezer that’s David Luiz.
We then beat the Tottenham in true Chelsea style,
A tough game of character won.
The fans were all cheering, I waved my flag high,
Cos beating The Tottenham’s such fun.
Then David came walking and whipped off his shirt
And gave it to little ol’ me.
A hug and a thank you, a moment unreal,
And my heart beating fast as could be.
His smile and his passion, the way that he cares
For all the supporters he sees.
He’s our Geezer once more, the one I adore.
The Geezer that’s David Luiz

© Carol Ann Wood
December 2016

luiz-shirt-3


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You Are Old Said The Mail

(With apologies to Lewis Carroll)

You are old, said the Mail,
And you dye your hair blonde,
Your jeans are impossibly tight.
Yet still you insist you are worth getting kissed,
Do you think at your age that is right?
You are old, said the Mail,
And your face, it has lines.
You’ve never had botox at all.
Yet you vie for attention
From players we mention,
Should you even BE at football?
You are old, said the Mail
And you don’t fit our bill
Of how an old woman should be.
You held a big banner in flirtatious manner,
And romped for the whole world to see!
You are old, said the Mail,
Past your prime, getting on,
A woman of fifty-six years!
And yet you don’t hide. Have you really no pride?
You’re endorsing our readers’ worst fears!
Well, I’ll say Daily Mail that I’m not yet quite frail,
I’m not gaga, or sweet, or infirm.
I’m a woman quite active
(My spouse says attractive!)
Has that made your readership squirm?
But it’s wrong! Says the Mail
To be visible still.
We’d hoped for a sexy young thing
To be clutching that shirt,
Not a hag in short skirt
And DMs that suggest she’s left-wing.
So up yours, Daily Mail cos I will not conform
To your idea of ‘acting my age.’
And I’ll do what I please, hugging David Luiz,
For I live in the pink, not in beige!

© Carol Ann Wood
December 2016

luiz-elderly-woman


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In Memory Of Matthew Harding: 26/12/1953 – 22/10/1996

For Di Matteo’s early goal,
We knew that you were there.
In cheers, in tears through the Chelsea years
That you never got to share.
In stadiums throughout the globe,
Wherever the Blue Boys played
We felt your love, we saw your smile.
We wish you could have stayed.
For all the glorious trophy wins,
In moments of despair.
In the heartache of the Moscow game,
We knew that you were there.
We know you watched us win the league,
We felt your happy heart.
We heard you laugh and we heard you cheer
Like we’d never been apart.
You were in the snow in Tromso,
You were in the San Siro.
You’re in the stand that we named for you.
You are everywhere we go.
At Wembley for each FA Cup,
And in Munich that magic night.
When Drogs stepped up to bring us joy,
We felt your pure delight.
You are there for the pain of each defeat,
As you will us to keep on singing.
You are on our roller coaster ride,
And the love that it keeps bringing.
You’re a legend, Matthew, in the sky,
Yet, you’ve never really gone.
You’re here in the heart of every fan,
Because men like you live on.

© Carol Ann Wood
October 2016


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Geezer Love

Oh dearest, darling Geezer
With your flowing, curly hair,
I’m glad you’re back in Chelsea blue,
To bring us style and flair.
Your smile lights up the stadium,
You have a heart of gold.
Your wink turns me to jelly
(Even though I’m very old!)
Oh dearest, darling Geezer
With infectious sense of fun,
I think you are adorable,
You lovely, crazy one.
You make our spirit stronger
With the bond you like to foster.
Let’s try and win some trophies back
And we’ll see you dance with Costa!

© Carol Ann Wood

October 2016

Costa: More sinned Against Then Sinning With apologies to The Bard Himself. King Lear (3.2.49-60)

Let the great refs
That wave those dreadful cards o’er our heads
Find out their failures now.
Tremble, thou Diego-hating pundits,
That has within thee undivulged crimes when playing for Liverpool in the 1980s,
Unwhipp’d of justice: hide thee thou video evidence.
Though perjured, and thou similar ex pro of virtue
That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practiced on player’s life: close pent up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
Those dreadful referees and pundits grace.
I am a footballer
More sinn’d against than sinning.

© Carol Ann Wood
September 2016