Streaming to the semi-final from cars and coaches.
Chattering and chanting all keen to see the game.
Excitement brewing, a great day out ahead.
Fans, from Liverpool and Nottingham they came.

Down the hill, just a police check to traverse.
Tickets verified and on toward the ground.
Turnstiles swamped like a nest of bees.
No order, barely a policeman to be found.

Pushing and shoving to get to the gate.
They’re through, just like a drain unblocked.
Onward to the tunnel and allocated pens.
Impatient and zealous fans all flocked.

Then a gate was opened and a surge released.
Still more fans headed to be behind the goal,
Not knowing they were adding to the burden.
Ultimately, that pressure took its toll.

I was at Hillsborough on that dreadful day.
Fatefully, not at the end called Leppings Lane.
I could see the crowd so dense and turbulent.
With many rugged fans trying to take the strain.

Fencing held them securely in place.
A few managed to climb or were lifted out.
The pressure was clearly extremely intense.
They needed assistance, there was no doubt.

Fans shouting for help; a response to ‘move back’.
A gap in the fence that the lucky ones got through.
Mayhem, the like that’s never been seen before.
Constables and stewards only able to help a few.

Fans and police alike with make shift stretchers.
First aid administered on the pitch before us all.
Personal belongings strewn around the goal.
They’d only come to see men kick a ball.

There was a slow trapse back up that hill.
So sadly without the hapless ninety-seven.
Their lives taken well before their time.
Just wanting to watch their favourite eleven.