A Cowley Christmas

Thanks to an anonymous reader for sending us his Christmas poem.

Happy Christmas to all Stacey West Readers.

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house.
Only one creature stirred, but it wasn’t a mouse.
Danny Cowley sat thinking, a lot on his mind.
For January signings he’d soon have to find.

He’d tried in the Summer, and most had gone well.
On the stroke of eleven, the Bees tried to sell.
Akinola, he thought, could lead the line.
With him up top the Imps would be fine.

Alas! Too late! The FA said no.
And Lincoln were dealt a sickening blow.
Through Autumn they toiled and tried their best.
A small squad playing with so little rest.

But they’d held their own, and done themselves proud.
Some fans had moaned, but most had stayed loud.
For those fans knew from where we had come.
Guisley, Hayes, Carshalton: places most glum.

And now Danny sat, through the window he gazed.
His mind was swimming, he felt rather dazed.
But then he was stirred, for a figure approached.
Up the drive, through the garden, on the door he encroached.
Could it be Santa? Old Saint Nick?
Arriving on foot would be taking the mick!
Not a reindeer in sight and no presents what’s more.
Danny got up and he opened the door…

It was Nicky! He’d come for a Christmas Eve drink.
“Merry Christmas, Danny!” He said with a wink.
The two men then sat until late in the night.
They schemed and they plotted until the first light.

Of signings they talked, and training grounds too.
A plan for next year, there was still much to do.
New faces, a striker? Let’s wait and see.
In the Cowleys we trust and patient we’ll be.

We’re not finished yet, success will take time.
So don’t worry yet, to quit is a crime.
Let’s keep the Bank rocking, keep helping the boys.
Let’s give them support, let’s make lots of noise.

Who knows where we’ll go, in one year’s time?
What tales will be told in next year’s rhyme?
The Loco rolls on, still gathering steam.
Let’s learn from last year and continue to dream.

With Danny and Nicky, we’re bound to go far.
Not rest on our laurels, keep raising the bar.
Of what they can do, we’ve had just a glimpse.
Only one thing remains: Merry Christmas you Imps!