Matthew Arnold's Lines on Dover and Forest Green

The sea is calm tonight.

The tide is full, the moon lies fair

Upon the straits; on the French coast the light

Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,

Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!

Only, from the long line of spray

Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,

Listen! you hear the grating roar

From far distant football ground

High above a Cotswold market town

Where wood and sward doth intertwine

In a resolute spring sylvan sign

That betokens ‘Victory!’

Not from Sherwood FOREST

In Lincoln GREEN,

With outlaws and poachers,

But from FOREST GREEN,

With goal-poachers,

Left wingers, Levellers, Diggers, Llamas,

The ghosts of handloom weavers,

Pedlars, tinkers, spinners of yarns,

Dale Vince’s capacious pockets,

Quorn pie, mash, peas,

Stroud Brewery ales …

Away fans might chant ditties such as

‘WE WANT MEAT, WE WANT MEAT’

And

‘PUB TEAM WITH MONEY,

YOU’RE JUST A PUB TEAM WITH MONEY’,

But as Fred Astaire so nimbly put it,

When dancing down the wing at Eastington

In top hat, white tie and tails:

‘Ha ha ha,

Who’s got the last laugh now?’