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Football Days Gone By
Football days, were old glory days,
and it meant so much to us all,
Much more to us, who played the game,
in those happy days of every Fall.
The smell of leather and wet grass
the taste of dirt, in your mouth,
I was proud to be a football player,
and living down in the South.
The skint elbows, knocks, and bruises,
are of nothing to be ashamed,
Just a sum of each days participation,
as a sacrifice, to be claimed.
We wore our colors of the red and white
and Red Devils, was our team's name,
We gave our best in what we always did,
and we played hard, in every game.
A coach's shout, cheer leader's chant,
and band playing in the stands,
There's nothing better on a Friday night,
than pig leather in your hands.
The smell of smoke, and of roasted nuts,
all added, to create the splendid spell,
The blaring lights on a high school night,
formed our memories there, all so well.
The scoreboard's record of time to play,
the touchdowns that we all made,
Gave an excitement there, felt by all,
and then showed how well we played.
At the end of every season in school,
came our awards that we received,
Support felt of students and our fans,
showed how much in us, they believed.
Despite my wounds, and an injured back,
there's nothing that I'd ever compare,
My time spent then in those glory days,
are to be cherished, in being so rare.
Those many friendships formed long ago,
do still remain, and are felt by all.
As each teammate goes on his special way,
living lives, with memories of the Fall.