Woodford Youth Football Club
Come On The Foxes!
Poets Corner
In Honour of the Under 8's C Team
The U8s C are great you will see
They tackle and battle
And play full of glee
They may be new
But they stick together like glue
They may go behind
But that's when they shine
They're a team full of spirit
And have enormous pride
They know when there playing
That no-one can hide
They know its early days
But you should watch them play
With hard work and dedication
They enjoy it come what may
Three cheers to the lads
From your very proud mums and dads
Lets keep it all up
One day we may win the cup!
Another Friday Night Another Friday night and I should be out having a drink But it's training tomorrow and a game on Sunday So I probably won't sleep a wink But I'm never down or dull because I know it's good for my soul And at the end of the day it's all been worthwhile Coz there's always a free bacon roll! RESPECT TO THE BURGER TENT AND ALL WHO SAIL IN HER ! S Penalver
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,
Two Little Boys 
Two little boys had two little toys
Each was a Woodford Fox
Happily they played each summer's day
Footballers both of course
One little chap then had a mishap
Burst his footballs two
Wept for his toy then cried with joy
As his young playmate said
Did you think I would leave you crying
When there's room in my team for two
Climb up here Joe and don't be crying
I can go just as fast with two
When we grow up we'll both be footballers
And our footballs will not be toys
And I wonder if we'll remember
When we were two little boys
Long years had passed, the Foxes moved so fast
Bravely they played away
Cannon roared loud, and in the mad crowd
Wounded and losing lay
Up goes a shout, a sub dashes out
Out from the ranks so Orange
Runs away to where Joe lay
Then came a voice he knew
Did you think I would leave you losing
When there's room in my team for two
Get up here Joe, we'll soon be winning
I can go just as fast with two
Did you say Joe I'm all a-tremble
Perhaps it's the Woodford cry
But I think it's that I remember
When we were two little boys
Do you think I would leave you crying
There's room in my team for two
Get up here Joe, we'll soon be winning
Back to the ranks so Orange
Can you feel Joe I'm all a tremble
Perhaps it's the winning noise
But I think it's that I remember
When we were two little boys
Adapted by M Cannon
The Counting Song
Hands of Friendship
Woodford Song
Orange is the colour
Foxes is our name
We're all together
And football is the game
So sing our song
Through the sun and rain
Because Woodford! Woodford! is our name
W O O D F O R D!!
By William 6 and Joseph 4
Woodford Youth is our team To win the League is our dream Every week we watch them play Football matches on a Sunday, "Come on Woodford, come on boys!" Paula's making lots of noise Robert's pacing up and down Gary is wearing a deep set frown Pauline's anxious - it's a close match But what a save Ryan - a fantastic catch! Come on Woodford, we need to score At least one goal, but let's have more Here comes Harry, goal's in sight Look up and shoot with all your might And yes it's in, we've scored at last Let's have another one really fast Our boys in orange are well on form They're kicking up such a storm Harry N's passing, making space They know it's more than just a race Keep it up, you're doing great We'e gonna win, I know - it's fate Exciting stuff, a brilliant game But then an equaliser - what a pain! They've not been together long But they're tough and very strong They really want to win this now So determined - they'll show us how! The other side attacks, but there's no way Those boys will get past Harry K Jack's got that look, please go for the ball Phew, it's a great tackle - the boy doesn't fall Tom's got the ball, he takes it down the line A superb pass to Nick, who says "this one's mine" And he's so right, it's a magnificent shot Right on target, giving it all he's got In the lead again, not long to go The boys put on an amazing show Daniel scores next, Tobias makes it four You should have heard the supporters roar The final whistle, well done lads We're so proud us Mums and Dads Come on Woodford, you're the best Miles ahead of all the rest... H. Dalby in honour of the under 9's a team
Saturday is coming,
The boys are waiting to train,
To work so hard together,
And have a mighty game.
The training is fast and furious,
With which they wish to learn,
As much as there is possible,
Because that is what they yearn.
A match comes round on Sunday,
With all their spirits raised,
They play well here and they play well there,
And everyone is praised.
With a 2-1 win,
And a 1-1 draw,
Watching Woodford Under 7's
Is anything but a bore!
With Cannon and Tappin in defence,
And Spalding keeping goal,
You don't see many chances,
Getting through the hole.
Penalver, Mills, Afzali and Lea,
Keeping the midfield tight,
It's up to Webb and Burrell
To make the score just right!
M. Cannon in honour of the Under 7's a team.
Blowing warm breath on cold, forgotten fingers,
Mind elsewhere as your burnt-out spirit lingers,
Watching the boys as they reach for the sky,
Turning your head as the ball flashes by,
Feeling the pain, jubilation, fear,
Building up tension as they attack from the rear.
Half-hearted cries at long distance shots,
Is the striker going to score, shall we draw lots,
Stamping your feet and clapping your hands,
Marching with the rhythm of the terraced band.
Choirs of grandfathers, fathers and sons,
Marvel at the skills of the right-back's probing runs.
On a roller-coaster ride of such highs and lows,
Disappointment or excitement as the full time whistle blows.
Returning home with your spirit soaring
How can people say the football is boring!
Submitted by J.Cranfield
He Stands Alone
He stands on the field with his heart beating fast,
The whistle has blown, the die has been cast.
Mum and Dad cannot help, he stands alone,
A goal at this moment would send the team home.
The ball nears his feet, he kicks, he misses,
A thoughtless voice cries "take off the bum",
Tears fill his eyes, the game no longer fun.
If you're ever tempted to shout or groan,
Remember he's a boy, who stands alone.
So open your heart and give him a break,
For it's moments like this that you can make.
Keep this in mind when you hear someone forget,
He's only a boy and not a man yet.
Anon
It is not the critic who counts; not the person who points out how the strong one stumbles, or when the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the person who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends themsleves in worthy cause; who at best knows in the end the triumph of great achievement; and who at worst, if they fail, at least fail while doing greatly, so that their place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.
Theodore Roosevelt 1916
Submitted By G. Dalby