Liverpool FC Forum

by **mottman** » Fri Nov 19, 2004 8:53 am

The book is superbly illustrated throughout by another local lad Mike Burrows. Mike is himself looking for a break in getting into the field of illustration, animation and graphic design. By buying the book you will be giving three local lads a helping hand in the notoriously middle-class dominated world of writing and publishing.

Included in the book are such classics as Dave's JUSTICE BELL and THE OLD BOY'S PEN and Nicky's ELEVEN RED TOILET ATTENDANTS and THE TRANS-ALPINO RUB-OUT BOY. .

Copies of the 96 page "Kop Stories" are now available priced at £5.00 each plus £ 0.50 Post and packing

Where to send orders to:

You can either pay by cheque or postal order made payable to the Hillsborough Justice Campaign and send to:

Hillsborough Justice Campaign
P O Box 1089
178 Walton Breck Road
Liverpool
L69 4WR

If paying by cheque or postal order, please allow 7 - 10 days for delivery, please ensure that you include your full name and address together with a note requesting a copy of the book.

How much will Dave and Nicky make from this venture? Not a single blind penny! All proceeds will go to the Hillsborough Justice Campaign and Zoe's Place Baby Hospice. So come on, help these two worthwhile causes and have yourself a laugh and great read by ordering now.

Thank you

Robbie

by **mottman** » Fri Nov 19, 2004 8:54 am

by **mottman** » Fri Nov 19, 2004 8:55 am

Copy of order form

http://www.contrast.org/hillsborough/mailorderform.rtf

by **mottman** » Fri Jan 14, 2005 4:44 pm

Dave Kirby has written some of the finest poems and stories about followng the Tricky Reds since the 60's to date. Every now and then someone posts up one of his poems, I thought it would be a good idea to try and collect as many as possible in this thread.

Here is one called The Storm

It was late one August in a bar down town
all the boys were together, but the mood was down
I was walking between them around the room
trying my best to lift the gloom.

With all advances being ignored
I turned and walked towards the door
hoping that when I returned
my warm approach would not be spurned.

Outside, long shadows crossed my feet
as autumn sunshine lit the street
I walked without a soul around
towards the outskirts of the town.

I crossed a cornfield draped in gold
when all at once the air turned cold
I walked as quickly as I could
towards a nearby sheltered wood.

Through the wood I walked alone
a north wind cut right to the bone
an angry sky shut out the light
the afternoon now felt like night.

All around were creaking trees
whose branches rattled on the breeze
brown leaves scratched along the ground
twisting as they swirled around.

The wind howled like a wolfhounds call
I stood against an old stone wall
ahead was the sound of a swinging gate
I felt afraid, I needed a mate.

Then came the flash of a lightening bolt
I pulled my collar and fastened my coat
it lit the gates which were rusted and old
so off I set in the shivering cold.

I ran through the gates to the deafening sound
of crackling thunder which shook the ground
the dark sky opened with a jagged flash
the gates then slammed with a mighty crash.

Then biting through the howling gale
came sheets of rain and frozen hail
I turned my back towards the storm
blowing my hands to keep them warm.

For six long hours the blizzard raged
my beaten face was pale and aged
beyond the woods I came to a bend
I felt afraid, I needed a friend.

As I emerged from the rustling trees
in shock I fell down to my knees
I shook my head and rubbed my eyes
at the awesome sight of golden skies.

Sounds of skylarks filled the air
with summer colours everywhere
insects danced and wildlife played
in emerald meadows laced with jade.

Through the ever changing weather
came the scent of Scottish heather
I crossed a bridge above a stream
then saw a vision from a dream.

For there upon an old mile stone
through shades of green where moss had grown
were letters carved in sandstone brown
which read 'One mile to Glenbuck town.'

I walked the trail beyond the bridge
where colours massed along the ridge
gold and scarlet hung like shawls
as salmon leapt from waterfalls.

I reached a clearing at the top
I ran a little then I stopped
with eager eyes I then looked down
at a figure near the town.

My heart beat fast, but not in fear
I churned inside as I got near
my tired eyes began to fill
as I stood face to face with Bill.

"Hello there son, enjoy the walk?"
I couldn't answer, couldn't talk
I put my face into my hands
"Don't worry son, I understand."

His voice hit like a driven nail
I stood before my holy grail
this legend who I'd idolised
was there before my very eyes.

Then off we walked into the town
where streamers hung and waved around
strips of sunshine graced the sight
of buildings draped in red and white.

Outside a station further on
singing reds queued in the sun
my heart filled up with pride again
at banners hanging from the train.

Flags from Europe, flags from home
Paris , Bruges, and some from Rome
pennants made with love and tears
forgotten flags of yester year.

I turned to face a nearby Inn
drawn by laughter from within
Liverpool songs rang out with cheers
the sound was music to my ears.

Shank's then ushered me inside
to join a flowing crimson tide
I floated in a sea of red
'See you soon' the great man said.

Inside, the joy was to behold
I sang along with young and old
Kopites jigged most everywhere
some on tables, some on chairs.

Sixties songs then filled the air
then came some from Dortmund square
songs from glory days gone by
to charm the birds out of the sky.

Sons and daughters, husbands, wives
re-living moments of their lives
caressing every treasured thought
their precious football team has brought.

I didn't want this day to end
I had to share it with my friends
courage now replaced my fears
no longer cold and free from tears.

I couldn't wait to tell the boys
about this place and all its joys
a town adorned with magic charm
embraced by Shankly's loving arms.

I ran as quickly as I could
towards the gate beyond the wood
I seemed to glide along with ease
like skating on a summer breeze.

The wood was dark but calm and dry
its thick tall trees concealed the sky
I smiled and thought about my mates
as I approached the rusted gates.

I stood confused, I wasn't sure
were these the same gates as before
now sealed up tight with locks and chains
I heaved and tugged, but all in vain.

I looked between the rusted bars
and through the dark saw tiny stars
I felt the bars against my face
and gazed out into darkest space.

I slid down slowly to the floor
as darker thoughts came to the fore
I wiped a tear from my face
as everything clicked into place.

I thought of the pub and my silent mates
the awful storm and the crashing gates
and why everybody was dressed in black
I realised then I could never go back.

Broken hearted and on my knees
I looked round at the tall dark trees
the blackness never seemed to end
I felt afraid, I needed a friend.

Then through the silence came the sound
of skylarks high above the ground
a ray of light shone through the wood
I rubbed my eyes and slowly stood.

The darkness then began to fade
tall trees turned a brighter shade
yellow leaves entwined with green
where eerie shadows once had been.

Then on the pathway up ahead
stood the great man dressed in red
I dried my face then walked his way
crackling twigs along the way.

Sunshine now replaced the cold
as once again the skies turned gold
my senses waltzed and danced along
as skylarks sang their silver songs.

As we walked back to the town
I couldn't help but turn around
in hope of seeing a loved ones face
before I moved on from this place.

"Don't worry son, you'll meet again
but you must leave and catch a train
there's one each day which passes through
transporting red souls just like you."

I joined the redmen in the queue
the train came then the whistle blew
I set off on my journey's end
no longer afraid now with my friends.

And as we moved off down the track
I couldn't help one last glance back
to see the buildings draped in red
with banners hanging overhead.

Then as the colours began to fade
there stood a figure in the shade
on the outskirts all alone
the greatest man I've ever known.

And there he'll stay for eternity
to comfort lost souls such as me
hands in pockets just waiting round
till the next red passes through Glenbuck town.

© Braces 'n' Boots

by **mottman** » Fri Jan 14, 2005 4:45 pm

My personal favourite from 'KOP STORIES'

THE BADGE

There are many tales, from many trails
by reds who've travelled far
of wine and dance from Rome to France
where they've graced most every bar.

As tales unfold from young and old
you hear the strangest things
but none more so than the tales which flow
from a Dortmund bar one spring.

The beer flowed as we hit the road
on the eve before the game
our shouts and cheers rolled back the years
all together once again.

Some fat, some tall, some thin, some small
we're all now middle aged
but have burnt the oil on foreign soil
since the Bill Shankly days.

Twas an awesome sight on that brisky night
in the Dortmund market square
with the Alaves boys we danced to the noise
of the samba everywhere.

We'd sing and dance, and then advance
through glazoned weary eyes
our dwindling crew was now but a few
we were dropping down like flies.

I remember then it was after ten
in a side street off the square
where a shimmering light first caught my sight
and seemed to lure me there.

The alley was dark as a hound dog barked
and howled at a pale blue moon
then a breeze unfurled, and gently swirled
all the litter which was strewn.

I stopped and paused as i heard the roar
of laughter, song and dance
as something said inside my head
that i was'nt here by chance.

As i ventured down i heard the sound
of a piano's rag time tune
which rang out loud midst the smokey clouds
from the doors of this saloon.

I rubbed my eyes as i stepped inside
i was seeing things for sure
all the men wore hats and silk cravats
like they did before the war.

Then through the crowd sat tall and proud
in the corner of the room
was a familiar bloke in hat and cloak
who was very smartly groomed.

He pulled a chair then called me there
so i walked as though hypnotized
then down i sat and began to chat
with this mysterious old guy.

'Hello there lad, how's your dad
have'nt seen him for so long
and i aint seen you, since you were 2
back in 1961.'

His grace and charm, made me feel calm
as the beer and whiskey flowed
i was mesmerized and warmed inside
by the stories which he told.

I was worse for drink so didn't think
too much about what he'd said
and the piano played and the bar room swayed
as we talked about the reds.

And then by chance, i happened to glance
at a badge upon his chest
it was worn and old, trimmed in gold
with an old style Liverpool crest.

He then revealed, this tiny shield
and placed it in my hand
'Thats yours, he said, from a grand old red
pretty soon you'll understand.'

I was so impressed by this little crest
looking down as i pinned it on
a voice wished me luck, but as i looked up
this mysterious man was gone.

Well i searched the place for his friendly face
but the old man was nowhere in sight
so i drank up my ale, picked up my tail
and decided to call it a night.

Next day i awoke full of whiskey and smoke
then remembered the night before
thought it was a dream, till a little badge gleamed
from my shirt on the back of the door.

So i hopped in the shower and chilled for an hour
then set off to the square in the rain
all the Kopites were soaked as they partied and joked
and sang with the boys from Spain.

They thought i was mad when i took all the lads
down the entry to show them the place
it was all boarded out and said 'Danger keep out
Derelict'... like the look on my face.

With strong German liquor my memory soon flickered
and forgot all this mystery
then later that night we went wild with delight
as the redmen made history.

We cashed in our Marks and danced in the dark
while the stars did a jig in the sky
all the bars in the town watched the beer flow down
as the Liverpool boys drank them dry.

So the very next day the 17th of May
i finally arrived back home
took the badge from my chest to put with the rest
from Paris and Wembley and Rome.

I then heard a thump which made me jump
so i quickley dashed upstairs
by the wardrobe door all over the floor
there were photo's everywhere.

I tidied them up then happened to look
at a tattered old black and white
as i stood and stared, i began to hear
the piano from the pub that night.

I sat on the bed and shook my head
breaking out in a stone cold sweat
as i realised the man who'd shaken my hand
was the Grandfather i'd never met.

My whole body shook as i took one more look
to the sound of an echoing laugh
for the badge on my chest was the same little crest
which he wore on this old photograph.

There are many tales from many trails
by reds who've travelled far
of wine and dance from Rome to France
where they've graced most every bar.

As tales unfold from young and old
you hear the strangest things
but none more so than the ghostly glow
from a Dortmund bar one spring.

by **mottman** » Fri Jan 14, 2005 4:46 pm

THE HOMEMADE FLAG

In all the years we've been apart
I thought that time would heal my heart
But the hurt came back just yesterday
It never really goes away.

Came back from Cardiff full of joy
I hugged my daughter and little boy
I ask this question again and again
Why weren't you spared to do the same.

My mind drifts back into the past
Some thirty years, it's gone so fast
Two teenaged boys whole lives ahead
Off down to Wembley draped in red.

A homemade flag we took that day

Its uncomparable to today
An old bedsheet, a bottle of dye
About eight foot long and four foot high.

It took so long to make that thing
Scissors, cotton, you would bring
Every evening after school
Sewing on the letters of Liverpool

Down to London, midnight train
Attempts to sleep were all in vain
Euston is cold at four a.m
That flag came in handy once again.

Snuggled in our flag, like peas in a pod
At 6.45 we were woken by 'plod'
"Wake up now boys" you cant sleep there
So off on a tube to Trafalgar square.

Only 8 a.m but oh what a sight
Trafalgar was bouncing as if it were night.
The black and white Geordies, the Liverpool red,
As the statue of Nelson looked on overhead.

About three hundred strong, we then marched without malice
Through Marble Arch to Buckingham Palace
"Let's wake up the Queen" you said for a joke
With our flag tied around you like batman's cloak.

All day around London it was much the same theme
So proud of our city, and the flag of our team
We hung it from buses, we hung it from trains
And as we hit Wembley, up it went once again.

The whole day was perfect, and so was our team
The most one sided final that I've ever seen
I can never forget the joy on your face
As we lifted the cup, then we turned and embraced.

As the years went by and we grew into men
We'd meet up every now and again
We'd talk of old times and things we had done
The exorcist, Jaws and Band on the Run

I remember so vividly the day I found out
That God, had called your number out
I thought of your parents, I thought of your John
I thought of your wife and your three year old son.

But death has no mercy, doesn't play by the rules
To take a man in his thirties, is so very cruel
You fought it so hard but always in vain
Then the Trumpets sounded and the Angels came.

Some three years later I was round at my Mum's
Looking through all the old photo albums
When my ma shouted from the bottom of the stairs
"There's a bin bag of yours on the spare room chair".

Inside the bag there was all sorts of things
Old programmes, scarves and a book called "Kop Kings"
Ticket stubbs, news clips, things I'd not seen for years
Then I stumbled on something which reduced me to tears

I stared for a moment in disbelief
My whole body went weak, overcome with grief
For there near the bottom of this old memory bag
Folded up nice and neat was our homemade flag

I closed my eyes as I opened it up
My heart was racing as I finally looked
I wept like a child as I kneeled on the floor
As I thought of that day back in '74

I held it so tight as I whispered your name
Oh Tommy I wish I could see you again
Had I known it was here I'd have done my best
To drape it around you when they laid you to rest

But alas, now its mine and it always will be
When I open it out it's your face I can see.
Adventures and memories that will always last
That flag is my window into the past.

So, goodnight God bless Tom until my next prayer
I know that your spirit is around somewhere
You could be millions of miles on some heavenly star
But when I'm holding our flag you are never that far.

Tommy McFadden 1958-1995

© Braces n Boots

by **mottman** » Fri Jan 14, 2005 4:47 pm

The Justice Bell

A schoolboy holds a leather ball
in a photograph on a bedroom wall
the bed is made, the curtains drawn
as silence greets the break of dawn.

The dusk gives way to morning light
revealing shades of red and white
which hang from posters locked in time
of the Liverpool team of 89.

Upon a pale white quilted sheet
a football kit is folded neat
with a yellow scarf, trimmed with red
and some football boots beside the bed.

In hope, the room awakes each day
to see the boy who used to play
but once again it wakes alone
for this young boy's not coming home.

Outside, the springtime fills the air
the smell of life is everywhere
viola's bloom and tulips grow
while daffodils dance heel to toe.

These should have been such special times
for a boy who'd now be in his prime
but spring forever turned to grey
in theYorkshire sun, one April day.

The clock was locked on 3.06
as sun shone down upon the pitch
lighting up faces etched in pain
as death descended on Leppings Lane.

Between the bars an arm is raised
amidst a human tidal wave
a young hand yearning to be saved
grows weak inside this deathly cage.

A boy not barely in his teens
is lost amongst the dying screams
a body too frail to fight for breath
is drowned below a sea of death

His outstretched arm then disappears
to signal thirteen years of tears
as 96 souls of those who fell
await the toll of the justice bell.

Ever since that disastrous day
a vision often comes my way
I reach and grab his outstretched arm
then pull him up away from harm.

We both embrace with tearfilled eyes
I then awake to realise
its the same old dream I have each week
as I quietly cry myself to sleep.

On April the 15th every year
when all is calm and skies are clear
beneath a glowing Yorkshire moon
a lone scots piper plays a tune.

The tune rings out the justice cause
then blows due west across the moors
it passes by the eternal flame
then engulfs a young boys picture frame.

His room is as it was that day
for thirteen years its stayed that way
untouched and frozen forever in time
since that tragic day in 89.

And as it plays its haunting sound
tears are heard from miles around
they're tears from families of those who fell
awaiting the toll of the justice bell.

© Braces and Boots

by **mottman** » Fri Jan 14, 2005 4:48 pm

One of my favourite poems by braces:

Originally posted on RAOTL

Date: 05/10/01 12:30:14 AM
Name: braces and boots

Subject: A RAY OF HOPE
As the build up to saturday gathers momentum, In one of my quieter
moments I thought and wrote this tribute to this forgotten man.

A RAY OF HOPE

Cup final week 2001
a centre stage for everyone
a worldwide audience comes to town
for english footballs 'jewel in the crown'.

A day of glamour for players and fans
fanfares, balloons, and marching bands
but far from cardiffs millenium dome
a lonely figure sits at home.

A frail man who barely talks
who needs assistance when he walks
a man who once stood proud and tall
who's now discarded by them all.

But thats not how its always been
a geordie boy burst on the scene
an instant star at highbury
his name of course, Ray kennedy.

Think back exactly 30 years
before the illness and the tears
life was so sweet before your troubles
as you helped arsenal win the double.

You stayed with the gunners till 74
then shanks came knocking on your door
his final signing you would be
a master stroke we all agree.

You were quite lethal in front of goal
but 'Sir Bob' gave you a different role
to left midfield, and what a change
with your vision, goals, and passing range.

4 championships, 3 european cups
1 league, 1 uefa, is what you notched up
your records there for all to see
your part of Liverpools history.

What happened next was tragedy
you had a change of personality
with your life and marriage on its knees
you were stricken by parkinsons disease.

You were coaching youths at sunderland
when your worsening illness forced their hand
it was shortly after they cut you loose
you became a virtual recluse.

Financial ruin was quick to follow
you lost your pub then had to borrow
the lowest point was yet to come
your precious medals were all sold on.

Its so sad to see a football great
end up in such a sorry state
a man who never walked alone
in an empty flat with a silent phone.

At the f.a. cup final this year
it would be great for him to hear
reds and gunners in harmony
singing 'Ray Ray kennedy'

The clubs should strive to find a way
to treat him like a king that day
just give the man a warm embrace
and bring a smile back to his face.

For when this week is done and gone
his lonely life will carry on
there's no one knocking on his door
for he's not famous any more.

So from us all who watched you play
thankyou so much and we all pray
that god will send from his healing hand
a 'Ray of hope' for this lonely man.

Braces and Boots

Posted by braces & boots on RAOTL on 17 June 2001

Alright folks , here's something I knocked up after my bacon sarney

THE FORUM PARTY

The forum party in town last night
gave me a ****** terrible fright
today I hang my head in shame
after seeing the faces behind the names.

The first one I met was 'kopite' col
who looks like a ****** elvis doll
he's a handsome ****** with a 12 inch ******
just a shame about his ****** cows lick.

Talking of licking, who did I meet next
some scruffy little cow in tracksuit kecks
sapphs brilliant, likes girls, but I dont care
'lick and let lick' I said to her.

My mate 'Ged the red' is only 4 foot two
and talks like a real ****** 'Och the noo'
but he's really a diamond of a guy
just wish he'd cut down on the pork ****** pies.

I then got a terrible waft of cheese
as I turned round , it was 'louise'
but what a wonderful girl she is
her mate was like something out of the 'viz'

And looking quite cool , to my surprise
was the forum policeman, pc 'nige'
I had to watch my P's and Q's
from this lovely lad in womens shoes.

Then came 'lou lou' with her lovely eyes
who can turn the heads of all the guys
my head sure turned, I have to say
but I mean the other ****** way.

I nearly had a heart attack
when 'rich' waved to me from the back
a cracking lad, into animal rights
glad I left my fur coat at home last night.

I dropped my pint then stopped and stared
when I saw the lovely 'kathy' standing there
her hair was permed, though I shouldnt mock it
looked like she'd caught her finger in an electric socket.

And who was the fella with a gob like a haddock
****** bladdered, full of sweat, it was 'king of the paddock'
he's a ded sound lad who started the singing
soaked ringing, started singing, by 12-30 ****** minging.

I shook my head for a little while
when I met the queen of the emerald isle
but my illusions where shattered 'cherith' broke my heart
when she asked me for a game of ****** darts.

Then later on 'm houllier' walked in
looked like he'd fell out of a ****** bin
brushed past me in the bog when I was ******
then I realised my ****** wallet was missing.

And what can I say of the lovely 'gab'
she showed me her ******, not a hint of flab
she talks with an accent, a bit of a toff
she was after my sausage but I had to ****** off.

the entire alehouse sighed and swooned
when 'rushian' walked into wetherspoons
but he's a cuddly giant teddy bear
even though his ****** could fill 5 chairs.

Then last of all but no means least
came the fat baldy four eyed skelmersdale beast
'Evo's my light, my inspiration
but he stinks of ****** and perspiration.

If theres anybody that Iv missed
I apologise coz I was ******
and who the ****** hell am I
just a 6 foot foul mouthed poetry guy.

Although I verbally assault
just take me with a pinch of salt
Im a nightmare for political correction
but my ****** takes of you are mixed with affection.

So thankyou for a lovely night
I hope you all got home alright
and hope that we can do the same
if the asylum lets you out again.

Braces and Boots

by **mottman** » Fri Jan 14, 2005 4:48 pm

The Flying Scotsman
I went to visit my father, who now aged 73, and he broke down when I asked him to tell me a few stories about Billy Liddell. I dedicate the following tribute to my dad and all of that generation.

An old man wipes away a tear
and recollects a time
when he watched a 'Flying Scotsman'
weave his magic down the line.

And from the line, this legend
would then dance into the middle
he'd then unleash a thunderbolt
as the crowd sang "Billy Liddell."

he left his home in Perthshire
in the summer of 38
but world war 2, would intervene
before his name was 'Great.'

An R.A.F. navigator
was his roll in world war 2
and with sir Matt, and shanks
was capped in 1942.

But when the war was over
he sure made up for lost time
as Liverpool's leading scorer
in 8 seasons out of 9.

Give it to Billy, Give it to Billy
was the song the kopites roared
as he sent them into 'Ecstasy'
with every goal he scored.

Football then , unlike today
was not so laced with gold
you'd have to find another job
to provide, when you got old.

His academic education
was to stand him in good stead
he was bursar, accountant, and JP
as well as a famous red.

He represented Britain
in 47, and 55,
with the great Sir Stanley Matthew's
together by his side.

His appearances for the redmen
totaled 537,
with 229, goal returns
a proud record to take to heaven.

The fifties was a decade
where rock n roll emerged
he was a 'rock' who 'rolled' defenders
while down the wing he surged.

My dad would always tell me
when I was a boy at school
about this brilliant legend
who they nicknamed 'Liddell,pool.'

But through the adoration
his ego never waved
one of lifes 'true gentlemen'
and impeccably behaved.

He truly cared for youngsters
and always gave his time
he'd stay behind for hours
till all autographs were signed.

His final days of stardom
were to start another phase
as he stepped down for 'Sir Roger'
at the start of shanklys days.

A testimonial followed
under a dark September sky
where to this 'Flying Scotsman'
40 thousand said goodbye.

He made his home on Merseyside
and said " Im pleased I stayed "
While everyone who watched him
said " Im very pleased you played."

As the decades have come and gone
many legends we have known
like Hunt, St John, Dalglish and Rush
and now Fowler and Owen.

These are all men we'v worshipped
who do wonders with a ball
but William Beverage Liddell
is sure up there with them all.

The years rolled by, and he grew old
with dignity and pride
his family Christian values
and wife 'Phyllis' by his side.

How sad it was to hear of you
in your lonely mental state
the same disease which struck 'Sir Bob.'
now struck this all time great.

The old man who was crying
slowly wipes away his tears
the old man is my father
who's adored you all these years.

I never got to see you play
I never had the pleasure
god bless you Bill, from one old man
for the memories he treasures.

Dave Kirby

by **mottman** » Fri Jan 14, 2005 4:52 pm

Copies of the 96 page "Kop Stories" are now available priced £5.00 plus post and packing.

Where to send orders to:

You can order and make payment by Paypal to:

justice_4_96@yahoo.co.uk

Liverpool FC Forum

Kop stories by dave kirby and nicky allt

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