A poem, by an old Evertonian

February 15, 1892
One of the old members of the Everton Football Club furnishes us with the following verses upon the present lamentable disputes: –

And so you’fly, new fledgelings,
Who think you are pretty smart;
It seems to an observer
You do not know your part.

You make proposals a l’appui(?)
Of good old E.F.C:,
And seem to thing you’re going nap
On nothing but’a three.

You’ve shown you’ve lost all self-respect,
And all your reason too –
But, hang it, this was ne’er possessed
By any one of you!

There’s of your clique a certain weak,
Small minded Mr. M —,
Who must have come from Jericho
Or old Jerusalem.

He’s certainly a tricky man,
And “ligures” very strong
Amid the many ucophytes
That swell the rabble strong.

The throng that have but all forgot
The grand “Noblesse oblige,”
And turned their backs upon their lord,
Their first and only liege.

T’s said by one whose name ranks high
Upon the scroll of fame,
That selfish greed doth hold no greed,
And honour’s but a name.

They soon forgot the willing hand
That made them what they are,
And who should yet in some degree
Be still their guiding star.

I fain would try to further show
Their conduct low and crude;
But words are faint and cannot paint
Their black ingratitude.

However, let us to the point,
And study Mr. C —,
Who seems from just a casual look
A living mystery.

I’ve heard of Egypt’s pyramids,
Of Sphynx and Obelisk,
And think there’s some analogy,
Some “twin-ity” of “disc.”

But I am getting personal,
However, you’ll perhaps excuse
If I digress a little bit
To pay a man his dues.

But may be you will think the cake
Should be awarded M.,
For at the meeting last convened
He had the scheme for them.

We have it in his very words,
Which came out like a rocket;
“This scheme the one I had for you
last meeting in my pocket.”

Now, what d’you want more straight than that?
‘Twas sure a grand ovation,
And such a man as Mr. M.’s
A pride to any nation.

Why, he and clever Mr. C —
And all their mongrel crew,
Would never score a single goal,
They’d always put in two!

I think with me you’ll place no faith
In mushrooms of a night
For, take my tip, eventually
You’ll be in sorry plight.

But stand aside a little time,
And watch them try a goal;
They clearly show at “registering”
They’re miles from either pole!

And one would think, it’s passing strange
That such a “counting” figure
Should be as slow with all his crew
As any swarthy n (banned n-word).

But never mind, let’s leave them all –
These “men” with heads and cars so long –
The graze of the adjoining ground,
With all their brothers in the throng.

And as their chairman finished up
In taking leave the other night,
This leap into the dark will find
Them in some fresh and far worse plight.

In cl sing, I enjoin you all
To heed well that what your chairman said;
To rally round the grand old club,
Not be by mushroom-mania led.

And take as leader well tried men –
Men of the old, not of the new,
Who all throughout have championed
You – staunch old members, firm and true.
(Football Field: February 15, 1892)


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