A TALE OF HEROES
Young heroes returning
From a far off foreign field
With hard fought victory won
Where the valiant refused to yield
Like heroes from Homers Iliad
Exalted in the legends
But in the Germanic snows
The heroes journey ends
As the Gods of winter struck
Fire and ice took its toll
And the names were duly writ
Upon an eternal honour roll
Geoff Bent, Roger Byrne (Capt)
Duncan Edwards, Billy Whelan
David Pegg, Tommy Taylor
Mark Jones and Eddie Colman
THE SURVING BABES OF MUNICH
Morgans and Blanchflower
Never played again
Some played to soon
Some could never play the same
Some were cast aside
Some fullfilled there destiny
But none were unscathed
After the tradgedy
Those who remained
Of the team Busby built
All survived the horror
But lived with the guilt
THE BUSBY BABES REPLAYED
The Busby Babes were sublime
The best by far in their time
And when eight of their number
Went to their eternal slumber
They went straight to heaven
To join St Peters first XI
THE BUSBY BABES
The young lads played the game
The Busby Babes was their name
Though they played like magic
They embraced tragedy in Munich
Their plane crashing in the snow
The wreckage burning all aglow
Eigth of their magnificent number
Would not see another summer
JIMMY MURPHY 6TH FEBRUARY 1958
In those brief moments,
Jimmy was happy,
On top of the world.
He had reached the pinnacle
Wales in the World Cup Finals
United in the European semis
Life was good
Life was very good indeed
Then the news came
Of a crash in the snow
And suddenly
Life wasn’t so good.
Information,
Patchy at first
Trickled in,
Not all reliable
Miss information
Spread like the plague,
Then the facts emerged
From amongst the fictions
So many dead
So many lost
And for the living
Life would never be the same
Jimmy blamed himself
For being so smug
For being so happy
For being alive
MANCHESTER UNITED DARKEST HOUR
Broken in he twisted wreckage
The victims of Munics winter carnage
Crashing in the snow and ice
There would have to be a fearful price
And when the bill was finally reckoned
Deaths reaper grimly beckoned
Towards the twenty three poor souls
That appeared on his fearsome rolls
Young men cut down in their prime
Older ones who thought they’d more time
Were all taken from that grissly place
To feel the breath of heaven on their face
Taking the souls who died in the snow
To where the innocents and the heroes go
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