In the wake of tragedy
Harry Gregg arose
And with no thought
Of himself
Pulled survivors
From the burning plane
Assisted latterly
By Bill Foulkes
Though he thought
His action
unremarkable
George Best, said of
him
“Bravery is one thing
But what Harry did
Was about more than
bravery.
It was about goodness”
Bright lights
Shining like stars
In the twinkling
Football firmament
Sparkling lights
From gritty towns
In the shadow of the
Dark satanic mills
Shining out from
Industrial heartlands
Like beacons
Bright lights of youth
Illuminating the lives
Of the terraced fans
Young men from the
dark
Industrial landscapes
Youth’s bright flames
Snuffed out
In the snows of Munich
Manchester United’s
Callous attitude
So cold and harsh
Towards the survivors
Beggared belief
And was never more
Keenly felt than when,
They could no longer
play
Jackie Blanchflower
And fellow survivor Berry
Were forced to vacate
The homes they lived
in
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
If you are a City fan
Keep silent if you can
As you stand at Old
Trafford
As silence falls in
accord
Please don’t speak out
Please don’t scream or
shout
Acknowledge the
silence
For those who lived
once
Don’t think about the
“Babes”
Cold and dead in the
carnage
If hatred in your
heart and head
Stops you honouring
United’s dead
Give your silence as a
gift
In remembrance of
Frank Swift
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
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
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
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
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
I was just sitting in the stand
And wondered why
absentmindedly
The football was
getting bigger
And bigger and then it
hit me
