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Good Evening All.
I’m turning in soon so I shall put this on for the night shift. This is A GENUINE UNIDENTIFIED POSTCARD unposted and with no clues on the back. It is the wrong shaped ball for me so I have absolutely no idea of who and where this is.
May I take this opportunity to wish everyone a Peaceful and Merry Christmas and may 2013 bring you all health and happiness. :o}
Joe Dunn were a bobby for football He gave all his time to that sport, He played for the West Wigan Whippets, On days when they turned out one short.
He’d been member of club for three seasons And had grumbled again and again, Cos he found only time that they’d used him, Were when it were pouring with rain!
He felt as his talents were wasted When each week his job seemed to be No but minding the clothes for the others And chucking clods at referee!
So next time selection committee Came round to ask him for his sub He told them if they didn’t play him, He’d transfer to some other club.
Committee they coaxed and cudgelled him But found he’d have none of their shifts So they promised to play him next weekend In match against Todmorden Swifts.
This match were the plum of the season An annual fixture it stood, ‘T were reckoned as good as a cup tie By them as liked plenty of blood!
The day of the match dawned in splendour A beautiful morning it were With a fog drifting up from the brick fields And a drizzle of rain in the air.
The Whippets made Joe their goalkeeper A thing as weren’t wanted at all For they knew once battle had started They’d have no time to mess with the ball!
Joe stood by the goal posts and shivered While the fog round his legs seemed to creep 'Til feeling neglected and lonely He leant back and went fast asleep.
He dreamt he were playing at Wembley And t’roar of a thundering cheer He were kicking a goal for the Whippets When he woke with a clout in his ear!
He found 'twere the ball that had struck him And inside the net there it lay But as no one had seen this ‘ere ‘appen He punted it back into play!
'Twere the first ball he’d punted in anger His feelings he couldn’t restrain Forgetting as he were goalkeeper He ran out and kicked it again!
Then after the ball like a rabbit He rushed down the field full of pride He reckoned if nobody stopped him Then ‘appen he’d score for his side.
‘Alf way down he bumped into his captain Who weren’t going to let him go by But Joe, like Horatio Nelson Put a fist to the Captain’s blind eye!
On he went 'til the goal lay before him Then stopping to get himself set He steadied the ball, and then kicked it And landed it right in the net!
The fog seemed to lift at that moment And all eyes were turned on the lad The Whippets seemed kind of dumbfounded While the Swifts started cheering like mad!
'Twere his own goal as he’d kicked the ball through He’d scored for his foes ‘gainst his friends For he’d slept through the referee’s whistle And at half time he hadn’t changed ends!
Joe was transferred from the West Wigan Whippets To the Todmorden Swifts, where you’ll see Still minding the clothes for the others And chucking clods at referee!
GOALKEEPER JOE by Marriott Edgar
It's just an educated guess, but the goalie could be Frank 'Butter-Fingers' Haffey of Celtic & Scotland ... he once 'let in' 9 goals against England [at least he kept the tally down to single figures], back in the early 60's. (He had a similar 'hair-do' to the man-in-the-air 'nearly' holding on to the ball ;o]
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