||THE GRAND OLD LADY SINGS! Self-penned poem.
In 1892, purpose-built for us, serving royal blue, from then and unto thus.
A Grand Old Lady stands, just north of Stanley Park, built with godly hands, illuminating dark.
Our home is Goodison, we tired of old Anfield, it's where it all begun, the glory years revealed.
A title win was first, before we left the hut, to always quench a thirst, and bust a red gut.
Forever we can say, we won the league there, mate, before we got away, we closed the rusty gate.
So Gwladys was our Mam, we stood as we obeyed, our butties made with spam, to watch a sport displayed.
August twenty four, events and a display, before the mighty roar, enthralled the Blues to play.
The first game to be played, was Bolton was 4-2, the message was relayed, our colours salmon, blue.
But this was just a game, an exhibition match, the league was not the same, the salmons were a catch.
The first game in the league, was Forest and we drew, the Nottingham fatigue, resulted in 2-2. Our quest for victory, was brought by Newton Heath, be banged in six for glee, a kick in glory's teeth!
So we spent a grand, we had our saintly home, surrounded by a stand, was built in part like Rome.
A fortress for the team, a cauldron to oppose, living in the dream, the teams we beat we chose.
In 1895, the Bullens Road was built, the Toffees they would strive, erecting on a stilt.
A double decker stand, was added in '06, the Gwladys Street at hand, was built with wood and bricks. An upper tier for view, with terrace underneath, enticed a brand of blue, for them they would bequeath.
Later in '09, a stand on Goodison Road, was really looking fine, at our new abode. The 'Mauretania Stand', was likened to a ship, grey cement and sand, making us look hip.
Then in '26, the Paddock was complete, was built with stone and sticks, the ground almost complete. 1931, the dugouts were installed, a feature we would don, the best ground it was called.
Greats like Dixie Dean, played the game football, looking so pristine, god had come to call.
1938, the stand was made two tier, looking really great, the view it was so clear. A home to make us proud, the best ground in the world, attracted some old crowd, with banners they unfurled.
1940 came, along with Hitler's bomb, trying to wreck the game, with hits that were aplomb.
The Gwladys Street was hit, by Hitler's war machine, reduced in parts to grit, we had to set the scene. Repairs at such a cost, but Gwladys wore a smile, the Germans they were tossed, we beat them by a mile.
In 1963, the Paddock got a roof, to keep the wind from thee, the trick was not to hoof. Upper Bullens Stand, trusses so unique, rails to use by hand, another kind of tweak. A School of Science formed, a Holy Trinity, their football always stormed, the way was meant to be.
1957, another special year, floodlights brought from heaven, instigating cheer. Then in '58, the soil beneath our feet, was laying just to wait, as we turned on the heat. The Mersey Millionaires, the name that we were known, we didn't have the chairs, instead we had a throne.
A Golden Vision man, aka the Golden Ghost, immortalised a fan, the one's we held the most. A facelift was imposed, in 1970, the question being posed, we've got our history.
1971, we got our first scoreboard, another second to none, the fans they would applaud. Southampton beat 8-0, the scoreboard could not cope, no space for us to fill, the scorers with such hope.
The stadium complete, the Park End up to scratch, another first-time feat, we started with a match. A commentator's dream, to perch up in a box, the mighty football scream, as legends rolled their socks.
1988, Enclosure it would change, seating which was great, sometimes feeling strange. 1989, a tragedy would strike, we had to draw the line, with seating like for like. The atmosphere would stall, but safety was put first, with one eye on the ball, the city had been cursed. Our friends across the park would suffer such a loss, the sky above was dark, the game had lost its gloss.
The angels who had died, whilst watching just a game, looked down as we all cried. But we are Merseyside, standing toe to toe, sharing dual pride, we let the whole world know.
Gwladys she was tired, the tears upon her face, loyalty required, we became a brace. 1991, the last game stood on foot, the terraces had gone, to bed they had been put. 1994, the Park End was reborn, with those that went before, a sort of brand new dawn.
A holy ground indeed, we even have a church, with St Luke in the feed, our faith we'll not besmirch. So Gwladys she will smile, Old Lady's looking swell,
Long live Everton, long live Goodison Park, long before I'm gone, I'm glad I've made my mark. The elder lady's voice has weathered like her face, but we have got the choice, our home is this great place!
It looks as though we might, pursue another move, such a change is right, 'cos we've got points to prove. Old Lady she won't die, she'll soon replace her frown. Get behind this scheme, it's got to be so good. We will improve our team, to be the best we could. A brand new football ground, will see us reach the heights, our glory will be found, a loss for all Kopites!